It is so cold here in the North, seems like summer never reached at all.

Still the sky is so blue and vibrant.

It’s the shade of longing, crisp air, and mist.

I long for silence, I long for the call of the owl on Sunday morning, wakin’ me up.

The steaming cup of Black Tea with four spoons of sugar and lemon sweets.

The sun rays makin’ their way through the glass without warmth.

Sky streaked with high silver clouds.

The way my favourite cardigan reaches my knuckles keepin’ me shielded like a cocoon, the embrace of your favourite smell in the world.

Home, you, stillness, old book waiting to be read, blue and gold.