the anecdotes that matched up to our cautious sensibilities.
dusty mornings withered away with green table tops.
looking through the glass palette, stories furnished to be served hot.
humming outdated tunes, your mouth has fallen short of mine for ages.
I still wore my armour low.
high notes and low notes, conspiring for your attention.
My shadow would be sore, had it fused into your tall green grasses of scorching windpipes.
2 comments:
readers are curious about the anecdotes and well the glass palette reflects quite somethings :). I love this!
curiosity is good. it should never be satisfied :)
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