children, two boys — i don’t want daughters, how crude. i know

a house on a beach by the sea; somewhere far away from civilisation, maybe even on a mountain or hill, some sort of elevation

the warm hand of my beloved intertwined with mine when i wake up to enjoy a grasse matin 

home-cooked dinners with chinese cabbage and fish beancurd and deliciously fragrant jasmine rice and chilled cantaloupe as dessert

a sunrise/sunset moment under a knit blanket or my smelly quilt blankie and pajamas with unkempt bedhair

and then

i want to learn how to swim properly, for real, so i can swim in the ocean for as long as i want