The villages: Somerleyton

She is, as she whispered she should be,
a light lover.
She's a place to lose yourself, and find yourself, and over see the scramble of others
doing the same.
Her soil is well-tended but not by me. I frequent
as a voyeur,
as a snake in her formal gardens. I've never stayed the night.
She doesn't mind,
she's a heavy sleeper, an early riser, a peaceful break against a challenging high society
and my visits
are both infrequent and a consistent pleasure.
She tells me
of her history, time after time after time, between entwined and estranged moments of our minds. Those
who love her,
truly love her, can easily lose that initial magic of being gone, not quite one thing,
with her soft,
plan - but as for me
I am taken.
A child to her splendour, each time.

[Photography Myles Lea]