I love Apples. Red not much, green for sure and the white ones are beyond compare. It all boils down to which one I have each day. Each one differs in flavour.
When I wake, have my Wild Island decaf swiss water roasted coffee, read the sports section of the papers, without fail I must have music. Lately, old friends named Blossom, Sarah, Anita, Lena, Billie, Ella have been my day-long companions. Sometimes I read a red book from Texas, and a-ha, it's in analogue.
I never tire for they keep me occupied especially during the nights when crickets and toads bear witness to the aural delights that stream through my study window.
The very thought of you at last, little girl blue, it never entered my mind. Sweet love, they say it's wonderful. I could write a book with a song in my heart. I wish I were in love again. I didn't know what time it was. Nevermind. Cosy prisons.
Strange fruit.
9 December 2005
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