Skip to main content

Torrents

mmmm...
Playing on my mind (thoughts of you) on springs, at dawn, on me, in love.
The light of early morning filters through heavy winter curtains revealing parts of your beautiful face. I snuggle and stretch catching a glimpse of the light as it plays on your lips. I move higher, straining my body warm from sleep, letting the cold in: I want to see your eyes!
I read our story there, a new chapter has begun in our continuing saga, so I relax and smile knowingly, welcoming the new dawn..

I'm late getting to the office! Drove like a car thief to steal time,and I'm still lagging behind. Drat it's gonna be a long day!
Note to self:
 "Avoid lengthy morning showers."
"Slick roads make for dodgy turns."
"Crazy suburban drivers are scarier in wet weather."
"Never take on a taxi!"

It is pouring out; the torrent turns  tar to water. I dash through the parking lot, glad I'm wearing my hair in a ponytail and my long black leather boots that makes me look like a traffic cop.  I curse as my skinny jeans clings to my bottom: "should've worn my raincoat!"

I say a quick "good morning" and make a beeline for my desk: logging on, busy as a bee as windows pop open and emails rush in.
Telltale signs show on my face, in secret smiles on playful pouty lips, in eyes narrowed and naughty.
Telltale signs can be heard in my voice, in soft sighs and gentle whispers; deep breaths mimicking pleasure.
I tackle the business that demands attention, fingers swift over keyboard and keypads, conversations brief and to the point; no time for small talk today.
I glide around the office as if on a cloud, winding in and out.
Here, but not here; getting things done on auto-pilot.

9am and the team is on the move. I'm holding the fort
Silence descends on my corner of the office like a gift from heaven. It settles around me like a cloak, shielding me from disruptions and deadlines. The aircon hums and the machines are willed silent. I love my job! The smell of coffee comes to me giving me cravings. I head to the canteen.
Latte?
No, black! Strong, bitter and hot.
The rain catches my attention making music and pretty pictures on window panes. I put the cup down, head to the window tracing rivulets with my finger... down, all the way down.
I close my eyes.
"Down," you said tracing fingers along familiar curves.
"All the way down," I said.

I head back holding the hot mug with both hands, cupping it firmly; taking the dark bitter liquid to sweet lips, swollen & marked by rough love.

11am and he still lingers on my mind. I lift the receiver, holding it close.
"Hi," I say, "you busy?"
"Yes," he says, "What time? 1:00, 1:30?"
""1:00," I say, "don't think I can wait that long."
He laughs, we're on the same page.
"Honey, it's gonna be a long day!"
"Yeah," he promised, "but an even longer night."
And I know from experience, he always keeps his promises.

Popular posts from this blog

Right here, Right now.

The wind whistles & howls, shaking up Cape Town ; waking her weary chidren.

Dazed I wake up for a second time, opening heavy lids to find that Monday had dawned softly. Ribbons of red are slowly beginning to caress the darkness as I stretch out lazy like a cat, lying in the middle of the kingsize bed, my thick winter frame engulfed by fleecy bedding the colour of candy floss.
"Sweet!" I utter out loud to an already empty house as soft light filters in through aluminium blinds making stripes like tattoos on my pale skin.
I should get up, but I am perplexed by the day which stretches ahead of me demanding nothing!
I'm at odds, not used to so much time on my hands, "busy" being my usual setting.

I'm beginning to like this new reality.
The ticking clock by my bedside sets a steady rhythm, as all around me the world is on the go, moving in circles. It's as if the world's forgotten about this one, tiny space. In my cocoon I groggily sit up, twisting m…

Storylines

Furrows deep and pronounced line my brow. I contemplate them,  willing them away, stroking them gently, each stroke meant to iron them out. I am their canvas, they are my storylines.

I seize my ironing, and listen to their tales.
I feel the cold to my bones!

Not the usual Cape Town cold I grew up with in the Southern Suburbs, but an iciness matching any day spent in Tewkesbury more than a decade ago in the UK.  The kind of cold that requires down feather jackets and knee-high fake fur boots.  The kind of cold that leaves sleet on windshields, and soup pots full.
Central heating!Pah! Our homes in Cape Town are ill-equipped for this kinda torture!
I hug my hot water bottle to me like a long lost lover, it's squishy, and pot-bellied and jiggles when I squeeze it. Raising the white mug to my lips, I slurp the almost scalding coffee quickly. My fifth cuppa and it's only 10:42am. Two bars glow bright orange at me. Mikey hogs the heater, and Georgie sits on top of the TV cabinet like a …

Jack of All

My professional life is marred by the ordinary.
By the humdrum thank you ma'am.

It remains puzzling, even in my semi-retirement phase.
I am not someone with an aversion to "success" or money.
I was raised to have a strong work ethic and I tend to show up, and I’m 100% tied-in to my endeavors. I've been at the receiving end of accolades and positive performance appraisals,  and I have over time broadened my scope of learning and my skillset, and I have tried to keep up with the times and technology.

Still...
Always in circles.
Round  & round.
Forward; then back to square 1.
Everywhere, but up.
Lateral moves and Plan B’s.

Hmmm…
Maybe I am a dreamer?
Maybe it’s because I’m the youngest sibling, the other one?
It could be because I’m fickle?
Or easily bored?
Or difficult?
Too demanding? Not demanding enough?
Too nice? Not ruthless in the least.

Yikes, maybe I think too much?
Maybe I should think some more!
Or deeper?
I could go back and make like Freud and delve into…