So I was craving pizza the other night...and Friday Night Pizza was the result.
The scent of a foreign land,
The jingle of strange music,
The rustle of silks and linens and bare feet on stone paths,
The taste of a warrior's victory,
The sharp delicacy of a smile,
The tang of just the right words rolling off a saucy tongue,
The warm-melting satisfaction of honesty,
The spice of romance,
The sultry gleam of stardust on a courier's beguiling lashes,
The heartfelt rush to an open door,
The whisper of coins, the heat of joy embraced by hungry arms,
The variety of a thousand nations packed in flat cardboard boxes
stained with the flavor of oil
and savored in front of a television.
YOU ARE READING
FRIDAY NIGHT PIZZA
PoetryThis is poetry about normal, ordinary life. Some of it will rhyme. Some of it won't. But I sincerely hope that anyone who stumbles across this will enjoy reading them as much as I enjoy writing them.
