Napkin Note (1)

The perfect temperature for my name
is the same of the air that is your breath
in a coffee shop, where our eyes meet
for the first time.

Reviews

[Wolfwind]

Absolutely divine! This note defines what they mean when they say, the perfect moment. When time ceases and the very breath between slows to infinity and with eyes can be seen. Thank you for sharing your scribbles from your deep spark!

For a reason that I don't know... I see this moment in fall, when the leaves turn and litter the ground in hues of green, orenge, red or brown. When the air has a slight bite and the collars are turned up, wool linings hugging close to the limbs. Human trees, preparing for the first drift of winters white. Then there is the crunch of the gravel as two sets of shoes make their way slowly along the walk. Perhaps hand in hand. Or at least threads woven together in joy
The cafe... rustic...woodsy...the scent of time and warmth and the knowing of a good meal.
The table... off in the back, yet window loved...
Then would come the eyes... gazing deeply...
Then the breath freezes for the first time.
=)

[Pi Cee]

The perfect moment indeed is what you just described, my scribe. =)