Kitchen rumors, rotten odors of obsolete.
I, older lady, ageless perhaps, or not age for love,
descending into the ‘’dark ‘’shared space.
No day light yet, anticipating my coffee smell,
opened the door and saw a young blond man sitting silently at
The kitchen table, having breakfast.
Had met him distractedly a couple days before, while being addressed by
his father, just arriving from another region.
Still dormant blue eyes, sweeter than chocolate cake, he smiled at me quite openly,
with sparkling eyes, but not so sparkling as mine!
Open smile-
A sudden improbable feeling of motherhood.
Brighton. Summer sea.
Young angel face with not so usual and common haircut, no beard.
He reminded of no one, nothing, nowhere.
Intensely looking- not staring.
I ate him up in a glimpse!
I loved his underused delicate features, still a man, though.
absence of disenchantment!
If I were the girl of the pic of many years earlier, I would have like to make love
to him, with no decency, speechless.
Recently baked fresh young man, of unexpected erotic wave.
In the early morning of the fall season, in a town whose streets speak
a meaningless language.
Why unexpected? No searched- no age for Love – that started long time ago.
I take it as a present.
Young Brighton man, you said nothing and yet you said so much.
Me- Spell in my eyes, for Love as well the opposite!