I am tasting a freshly painted house
As I brush my teeth before bed.
A gentle brown, warm, chocolate.
I smell clean carpets and possibility.
Prospects of what could be in a given space.
I am thinking of vacations and beaches
Aquariums, museums and big ships
Big enough for me to spit off of.
Water running out around me
Like it comes from me
And that water is an ocean
And I am the heart of the world.
I feel drafts on my skin from open windows
And feel sunlight on my toes
Feel home on my nose
And see books ordered just right
Which means I am on my couch.
I think of might-be greens and summer wind
Small places to hide small trinkets
Cupboards in a blossoming kitchen
Rivers of might-be all around me
Stories waiting for telling and
Yearning for the hesitation that says
“Waiting until the time is right is best.”