I am a hobo but I day dream of a settled life. Not a poem as such, just a musing.
I want to spend warm summer evenings reading passages to another.
Windows open, golden light dappled by billowing net curtains.
The sounds of a neighbourhood winding down.
Sprinklers starting their rhythmic hissing.
The smell of BBQs dinners been shared.
A dogs playful bark.
Children laughing as they hide from their parents who call them inside.
We’d drift into an exotic fiction, whilst nestled in each others worlds, content in our peaceful mountain summer land.
Totally gay or what?