Cinnamon-coated Virtues Speak to Scented Oaths These scents that Burn to red cinnamon heat – Lust, Flames – All to smell In one air-conditioned room, Could break open a new time Of a turning point In a fantastic realm – Of things that Light forth – Ignitions that suave into scents of The candy-coated ardour; To the candy-coated spill-overs That drape over On the nicks of truth And time that Fades and keeps – The smallest oath To a greater fragment Of secrets Locked and kept safe In my chest of drawers; Where I had Life spilled To seasons Sent to an ironic circumstance – Swayed forth To a life that heats up Another moment of cinnamon virtue – Grown to A love of the things – Held to The measure of a day. *** The air-conditioned room Was filled with the scents That any nick of time spoke To a greater fragment Of a new day; Where sweets Paved in for the smells To get nicked By the fresh new groove That talks Through a solid resonance To time’s favourable state Of pleasure; Cut fine – Today. 2014 ©
Posted on: Mon, 06 Oct 2014 12:07:52 +0000
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