wishful thinking



Someday we’ll spend quiet Sunday afternoons together. Maybe go to a favorite coffee shop and talk about how each other’s week went by. Sip quietly on coffee or tea latte while listening to the shop’s playlist.

Or maybe we’ll stay home, lounge around in the living room, and read poems to one another. Cook and eat a simple dinner together. And late in the evening, slow dance on a moonlight-bathed floor to indie songs only the two of us know.

But until then, I’ll happily spend most afternoons like this in quiet and solitude, knowing it’s perfectly okay if ever that someday isn’t meant to ever come.


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