Cool orange slips down the dry throat,
water droplets of the tin can dissolving in the saltwater of the palms of the hands,
the brilliant blue spreading spreadsheets of cotton whites where the lines of the grids mix and match and lay idly in amalgamation;
crickets humming incessantly rhythmically complimenting the sounds of lazy summer noons,
it’s so lazy, even the fainting dizzying as so to feel blacking out momentarily under shades of generously leafed branches on the strong scent of grass,
the windbell startles my idle soul, tinkling in the balcony breeze,
it’s so subtle, but I know the day is hallucinating, feeding me dreams of lost lands and homes I’ve never found,
so much for being December-y in December,
sweating colas resting in coolers as if laying out on sand on a hot summer day,
the pool so still you could swear it’s whispering in its slumber,
and my heart’s fading into somewhere.
YOU ARE READING
i n s i d e h e r b e e h i v e
Poetry" where she is the queen " At this point, my words don't even mean anything, my lines are random, my meanings are all over the place, my endings are left in the middle. I've not the slightest idea if I can compose something coherent. It all feels li...
