Gratitude
Sits in your bedroom. Doe-eyed
with a hibiscus tea and the smell of well-loved fiction.
All silk, all soft.
Her back pressed against a cold radiator,
Indulging the gold reflections breaking through airy curtains.
The open window is a gift
so rain streams through it like piano notes.
Eyes shut
she’s swaying,
unsettled like the sea
on the edge of your bed.
Out in your garden, amongst the ferns.
Digging her toes beneath the wet earth,
planted and
soaking
in the light of a day
she hasn’t experienced yet.
