Under the Oak

An old house nestled under the leaves of an oak. My eyes are drawn along the terracotta pathway to the entrance. I want to touch that door, feel the grains and cracks and open the black rusty lock.

I picture the inside. The walls would whisper to me and the floor would creak and moan.


Photography by Nirrimi
http://www.nirrimi.com/

I imagine lounging on the deck. Dinner parties under fairy lights and lanterns. Chasing knee highs along the fence line. We would have a claw foot bath in the garden and when summer stung our skin we would fill it and sit, singing merrily. We would camp under the canopy,  collect her leaves, watch her change season and love her more each time. Our hair would grow long, your beard too and we would dance often.

In winter we would rush from the steaming hot water to the open fire. Standing until our back and bottom glow warm red. We would sleep in that big old bed and dream of secrets from another land. Safe and sleepy, our sanctuary under the Oak.

Love J x