A Baltimore row-house
Over a hundred years old
Views of my favorite park
A place to read
A place to write
A cute apartment, my first without roommates
One bedroom
One bath
Hardwood floors
built-in bookshelves, and a
Tiny kitchen
with a tiny stove
and a tiny fridge
A tiny ledge, for the cat to lounge
before a tiny window.
All enclosed in antique French doors
How many Holly Golightly parties happened there?
One can never tell
Friends and neighbors and strangers
Stopping by, making meals, sharing stories
Reading poetry, watching fireworks
and dreaming up adventures
If I close my eyes and drown out the present
I can still be there
In my tiny kitchen
Cooking on my tiny stove
As a child I lived in a small house that had a tiny kitchen but a big family shared memories in. 🙂 Love it.
I honestly loved that tiny place more than any other. There’s is a certain magic that happens in intimate settings.
Yes ! I remember many sweet memories of that tiny beautiful kitchen and your delicious cooking! It was quite nostalgic to read this poem.
This is so gently atmospheric and you weave the past and the present beautifully together. It sounds as though it was such a perfect haven!