Artifact
Rifts of broken windowsills
breeze whistle puffs of thin air,
pelt off drops of aurora down pour
soothed by spikes of a twilight shine,
clicks of cutlery, cries of a spoon warfare.
A frothing little thing,
brittle under springs of tea spray
of a wuthering vapour haze
carried on by aromatic auras
of jasmine and vanilla.
A caramel pinnacle,
encircled by steamed dumplings
lazing over crunchy drumsticks
drenched in spits of ketchup,
breaking nuts of jaw bolts.
Gnarled under emerald quilts,
I groan off aches for the luscious,
a mahogany creak paves way for,
glimpses of radiance, last & only,
a breakfast, cozy in bed.
Comments
Post a Comment
I am humbled you found pleasure in writing back.