wellington.
it's quiet here,
antiquated. good.
and the history compels you to warm milk + vanilla, all the time.
chenille blankets, robes, pipes.
and all you hear on sunday mornings are the church bells across the street.
and it's a friend of ours who rings them.
so we know the songs.
just this hush, everywhere.
except inside my body.
always palpitations there,
or some tormented dreams.
but still it's better than it's ever been.
a balance maybe.
of silence and storm.
antiquated. good.
and the history compels you to warm milk + vanilla, all the time.
chenille blankets, robes, pipes.
and all you hear on sunday mornings are the church bells across the street.
and it's a friend of ours who rings them.
so we know the songs.
just this hush, everywhere.
except inside my body.
always palpitations there,
or some tormented dreams.
but still it's better than it's ever been.
a balance maybe.
of silence and storm.