Xanadu
 

Awoken to sugarbirds stirring outside my window, I run down the stairs and into the kitchen. Soft soles making a pitter patter against the cold tile floor. I sit at the dining table, rubbing my eyes. Burnt toast and butter with a mug of Milo is neatly arranged. Each bite just as sweet as your humming. Inconsequential to you, refreshing to me. Bathing in that silver tub, bubbles to my chin. My hair like honey basking in the sunlight. Your garden surrounds me. The sweet scent o