My friends and family have gone their own ways, and now I am on my own. I have filled my scheduled time with plenty of things to do which is good. As I rest today, I feel a bit homesick. I’m sure it will pass as I get more used to being by myself.
I stopped for lunch at a cafe outside of the Place des Vosges. I soon realized it was an early lunch as no one else was eating. Rather than go with the flight option, I tried my best to enjoy the isolation. One of my goals is to write, and solitude seems to be my best muse. I won’t share all of my poems on here, but I might as well share my first little blurb.
Table for one
No patrons yet
Chipped paint hangs with oak beams
Holey limestone protrudes from walls
Jars filled with dried goods
Teapots hanging in a row
Dusty cotton sprig in cluttered corner
And boxes under bench creates decor.
Mother smoking outside
Son cooking inside
Me sitting with my tivoli salad
and water glass that resembles a dog water bowl.