happy indulgence

My indulgence is to love. Things ordinary people treasure, I treasure too. Name it: coolness of a evening breeze, eyes of a laughing child, sweet velvet of a great wine, love making, mountains and valleys, birds, food, being stupid, a good movie, touching somebody's hand, being on my own and reading stupid stuff, writing endless useless poems that hardly anybody will read, music and music again, silence and presence merged... It's a much longer list. It boils down to love, and love again. None of it is what I can call me. Nothing I can call "me". But all of it makes this fake something wandering in the big world. A bit of everything and a lot of nothing. Vain? Yeah. Weak? Yeah. Not a mighty tiger or a fighter. A lazy pussy cat, for sure.