It's the piece of patchy sky beyond aluminium grills.
The fly that has flown in and out three times, and counting.
Your gentle snores,
Almost in sync with the spinning fan blades.
Skin against beige leather and the evidence of humidity in between.
Orange suitcase leaning against your powder blue wall,
Almost ready to go.
The smell of steamed tofu moseys through the air of inactivity,
I cannot keep still.
*
Clarity - when awe of serendipity subsides
*
He: The man of many plans, gadgets, navy shirts and hypotheses.
She: A creature with mayfly foresight, gungho hyperboles, and butterfly-shaped diamonds.
So she will let inevitability lead her way,
And hope this is his way too.
*