Beside a sluice rests a home:
humbly weaved with strands of memoirs.
Minute signs of yesterday’s flight
submerge beneath cinders of warmth.
Inside is a temple, Genesis’ daughter,
who rears the seeds of tomorrow’s spring.
Withstanding languor: gravid’s twin,
she awaits the sojourn of a milk-washed kin.
Soon enough, she perches on lives-
each, counting chickens inside their minds.
Alas, they fail to know their fate:
not all will leave their carapace.
2 comments:
I eat a lot... and my most favorite meal of the day is breakfast.
but seriously, i think, this breakfast... i find it hard to digest... :P
Definitely... It's one hell of a good one.
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If you got time, pls do visit my blog (i hate asking, it makes things cheaper, but i can't help it).
I just think, you're one of the critics i love to be there in my audience seat. If you refuse, i will rename the "audience" as guest of honor. :P
Well, it's an honor to be an honor. Rest assured that I will pay your blog a visit.
Thanks for the comment!
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