It's what's inside

Lets: curl up together like two cats (me grey, you brown and white. Both purring) on the windowsill of whatever ruin we are inhabiting. In the bar of sunshine, fanned by the breeze. Why don't we: Discover the corners where the nightwind does not reach, where the broken wooden floor creaks, where it doesn't. We'd learn how to use the stairs without breaking them, how to lap water from any pool in the garden after the rain. Let's just Be here, together. Let's prowl under the thornbushes and watch the sunset, let the flashing street flash by. Let's sit silently side by side and just watch. Let's listen to the creaking house and let it creak. Let the wind play with the curtain or take the chimney down. We have what we need: a bed, a sill, each other's shoulders and chests and paws. Let's wake in the middle of the night to the sound of the rain, and in the morning to the sound of the setting stars. I want all this with you, as the flashing street clatters by. Let it go on, on and on, as we sit in here. Let them think it's a ruined house, abandoned and empty. We know its every creak. We love its every corner. I love every moment in it. Our palace.