Plas du Palais
"Maybe I'm right, maybe I'm wrong
Loving you dear like I do.
If it's a crime, then I'm guilty.
Guilty of loving you."
With its crackling, record-player quality, it has been the perfect accompaniment to this place.
This whole weekend I've spent tucked away in this corner of my house,
Mugs of coffee sitting on the dresser, journals and books strewn about the bed...this has been the place.
Art happens here.
A room with big bay windows and a view.
The windows let in the warmth of the long-awaited sun.
The view treats your eyes to the most breathtaking view of Northwest Seattle.
(The Aurora and Fremont Bridges, the Ship Canal, the snowy Cascades...
The "Montparnasse" tower, as I've named it.
Hills covered in buildings and lights that twinkle at night.
Seaplanes take off and land on the water.)
Every so often a boat sounds its horn, warning the Fremont Bridge it's time to draw--
It commands my attention every time,
I watch the bridge go up and follow the top of the mast as it floats down the canal.
Catharsis happens here.
Bright blue sky and gigantic, feathery white clouds,
Turns to a pink, the vastness of the sky spread in thin layers of color
Dark, (?) no stars out, no moon
A whole day has passed this spot, and I've remained here
Content, unfazed--letting out a sigh every once in awhile
I think I'll visit more often.
Loving you dear like I do.
If it's a crime, then I'm guilty.
Guilty of loving you."
With its crackling, record-player quality, it has been the perfect accompaniment to this place.
This whole weekend I've spent tucked away in this corner of my house,
Mugs of coffee sitting on the dresser, journals and books strewn about the bed...this has been the place.
Art happens here.
A room with big bay windows and a view.
The windows let in the warmth of the long-awaited sun.
The view treats your eyes to the most breathtaking view of Northwest Seattle.
(The Aurora and Fremont Bridges, the Ship Canal, the snowy Cascades...
The "Montparnasse" tower, as I've named it.
Hills covered in buildings and lights that twinkle at night.
Seaplanes take off and land on the water.)
Every so often a boat sounds its horn, warning the Fremont Bridge it's time to draw--
It commands my attention every time,
I watch the bridge go up and follow the top of the mast as it floats down the canal.
Catharsis happens here.
Bright blue sky and gigantic, feathery white clouds,
Turns to a pink, the vastness of the sky spread in thin layers of color
Dark, (?) no stars out, no moon
A whole day has passed this spot, and I've remained here
Content, unfazed--letting out a sigh every once in awhile
I think I'll visit more often.