Joyeux Noël to each and all.
She shakes out mats,
Swats the swirls of dust clouds,
Pats her plump cushions
And takes liberties
Hidden in flower pots,
Sprinkling her kind of cinnamon
On a nutmeg world
Where androgynous girls
Swirl long legs on cobbles made
For such unsuitable shoes,
She wonders how the spindles
Don't snap and break,
She'll send them candied orange peel
And feel the autumn sun
Catch on burnished copper leaves
And spiny spores on country walks,
Where pockets filled,
She hides her secrets well
And swell young men
Make her smile,
She'll meet and match,
Take that snatch of happiness
And gift with love, the love
That captures all young hearts
And starts a myriad of paths,
With only one, the right way
But delicious fun on forbidden ones,
She keeps these memories hidden
And sends cloves, finely ground
To soothe away the pain.
She loves her nutmeg world
More especially on days like these
Where cinnamon and lemon spice,
Slice away preamble and she
Watches lovers in love
Tasting sweetness from lips
Where she melted and drizzled;
Her potions just as heady
as once they ever were.
Poetry by Elle
Read 423 times
Written on 2012-12-24 at 14:27
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Nutmeg World
She shakes out mats,
Swats the swirls of dust clouds,
Pats her plump cushions
And takes liberties
Hidden in flower pots,
Sprinkling her kind of cinnamon
On a nutmeg world
Where androgynous girls
Swirl long legs on cobbles made
For such unsuitable shoes,
She wonders how the spindles
Don't snap and break,
She'll send them candied orange peel
And feel the autumn sun
Catch on burnished copper leaves
And spiny spores on country walks,
Where pockets filled,
She hides her secrets well
And swell young men
Make her smile,
She'll meet and match,
Take that snatch of happiness
And gift with love, the love
That captures all young hearts
And starts a myriad of paths,
With only one, the right way
But delicious fun on forbidden ones,
She keeps these memories hidden
And sends cloves, finely ground
To soothe away the pain.
She loves her nutmeg world
More especially on days like these
Where cinnamon and lemon spice,
Slice away preamble and she
Watches lovers in love
Tasting sweetness from lips
Where she melted and drizzled;
Her potions just as heady
as once they ever were.
Poetry by Elle
Read 423 times
Written on 2012-12-24 at 14:27
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
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Lawrence Beck |
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