A hot chocolate or nice English breakfast, and a good book.
Dim warm lighting.
Nice blue couch.
Gold 90.5.

It was almost the same sometime last year.

But it was coffee instead.
And a good book there wasn't. A stack of Bio notes rather. (or was it Chem notes I can't really rem)
Nice blue couch remains.
The pitter patter of the rain and the chingaling of the wind chime made good music.
It was windy, serene, and all nice, nonetheless.

I made a poem on that, lost somewhere out there in the archives. Somehow, that scene, remains in my mind.

A nice lavender oil would be perfect. And if only we could just live our lives like that everyday (the former of course. I would rather a good book).



Unappreciative thoughts that clouded your mind,
If it even struck you, Your Highness,
That you weren't the one who cleared the dirt and grime.
Why, a Highness you are not,
Maybe just a brat of the lot.
The few yrs, just let them fall.
But that probably would spell the end of it all.