Her eyes resembled a panda. They were sunken deep into her flesh. The lids were weary, leaving a small gap in between. The caffeine from the coffee left her awake. She closed her eyes to compose her restless body, laying down on a bed of roses.
Roses. They were full of thorns.
Her wandering souls were unrest. She tossed and turned. There were no comfort zones. Rest, oh my weary souls. Rest.
A sprig of dried rosemary under my pillow - a common basalt. The mattress' brown and scented with geosmin. Humus adds to the softness.
ReplyDeleteAt last we rest: my body and soul. One with nature, in communion with detritivores.
Hey Belle, I couldn't resist. ;)