Tuesday, September 18, 2012

at the coffee table


as she started sipping her coffee,
carefully blowing small winds,
each time her breath kissed the coffee,
it sprang to life with vapors as it cooled
it lived its death breathing her wind
until she sipped it in

as she moved sideways,
her plates allowed her ear to be seen
the pearl, it was pristine
her light hair blew over her face, shadowing
like lazy clouds on Bashang beneath

the air smelt beautiful,
with her still wet fragrant hair.
and so i rushed home
to pen her 

No comments:

Post a Comment