I lean in the doorway.
The sun has picked up its paintbrush
and singed my face with freckles.
Cherry red toenails peek
from beneath the table, tapping,
twirling, on the baked stone slabs.
A brown, wet, heart-shaped nose
snuffles at your bronzed painted feet –
your toes scrunch, damp and squealing –
rocking a pair of birks,
you always have the most tanned feet
from April to September.
A flawless selection
of hand-picked flowers find themselves
lounging, mindless and carefree.
Secateurs in one hand,
I watch you admire your artwork
gladly, from my peering spot.
It is a perfect summer’s day.
Header Image by Micheile Henderson on Unsplash.