it evokes a sense of longing in me.
A longing to write, a longing for the good things.
I imagined munching toast today.
A slice of wholemeal bread toasted crisp for 2.5 minutes,
the a heavenly spread of peanut butter
before I fold it along the middle and take a huge bite.
It pains me to admit that I am that hungry yes,
but I've only got 15? days to go.
And that's 25 days without lunch, mind you.
I've got another half hour to go before
I can put solids in my mouth.
Hush now stomach, you will soon be fed!
Ah, look at me, talking to one of my dear internal organs.
I must be loony, indeed.
Ain't long 'till we meet up again, dear one.
I don't think December's that far away.
But for now I bid you adieu,
and I quote you:
Suddenly, (I) just want a hug. One that squeezes out the breath of me and crushes my ribs.
See? That is what I admire about you.
