Tuesday, January 19, 2021

777

 TASTE OF BUTTERNUT SQUASH

I remember the taste of butternut squash,

Your roasted words scorching brain cells

Its really hard to add one to two, resulting

In minus one, three just doesn't add up.


There is always something wrong, when

The moon plays coy, hiding behind clouds

The night sky chooses to define as highlights,

Shouldn't there be a beacon drawing threads


Desire once weaved? silently, arduously, continuously

There is no cheese what ever its colour, in the taste

Of moonlight, watching, as ships drift apart,

In a sea, salty  as if filled from mere teardrops.

© gillena cox 2021


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