Fat little spheres
Color like no other,
Deep indigo,
Frosted
In a layer of sky blue
Satisfying snap!
From the branch
As the firm berry
Leaps into my hand
Slightest clench of my teeth
And then berry dissolves
Into bubbles of blue bitterness
The warm sensation
Covers my mouth
And sends a shiver of sweetness
Down my spine
I swallow,
And reach for another
Isn't it funny how we associate certain tastes with certain seasons and places? Pumpkin with fall, berries with summer, aloe with Grandma's house. Then there are those scents you can't name, but brings back to you a place, an age, or a time. Those indescribable sensory tags we place on times, places, or people too good or specific to be covered by words. Sometimes I wonder, what if we could communicate just by thought, no words as middlemen to muddy things up?
YOU ARE READING
Translation
PoésieThere are days where I get so confused or befuddled that my thoughts all come out in puddles, raining backwards and forewords, sideways and upways I pick up a pen and I pick up a notebook and when I'm done the whole world looks A little brighter...
