Friday, September 28, 2012


You’re perched upon a precipice
juxtaposed by genesis
of feelings that are not as high
as where you sit and cast your eye
above your so called nemesis;

extending your extremities
in pantomimes of pleasantries
reveals much more than you may think
as well worn gears discreetly clink
ensuring your indemnities

are fully reimbursable,
your sentiment submersible
beneath the pungent oolong tea
whose steamy tendrils set you free
with calmness truly merciful.


Midnight Whisperer said...

This, lyrical Poet, is lovely... Now I must make myself a cup of chamomile with honey.

rch said...

Hey thanks MW, enjoy.