Sun settled over
beetroot sky, like
mother hen over
clutch.
And I could smell
the beetroots burning
against horizon
shift.
Sizzle-flip
and turn them over.
Leaking pale red into
the sea.
One dimensional folding paper,
greaseproof (we presume);
Wrap it up, tape the ends.
Send light to the moon.
YOU ARE READING
Afflatus
ŞiirYou are my divine poetic inspiration. To breathe, to blow air through my lips. flāre afflāre afflātus. You are my divine afflatus. *- This is my third collection of poetry. The other two are Parts of Me and Butterfly Ripples. Please be kind enough n...
