A vague phantom
Of a lukewarm memoir.
A scent,
Of soft drizzle on misty soil.
Grey skies, liquid eyes,
A taste,
Of rosy pink glaze
Over ghost-white pastry.
This homesickness
For a home that is no more.
~.•.~
If you have any thoughts, leave them on the comments, Id love to hear!
YOU ARE READING
Untold Whispers
PoetryYour time's running, what will you say? What will remain untold? HR #64 in Poetry
