A sticky dance, a rhythmic chew,
A burst of flavor, heading south.
It clings and pulls, a playful tease,
Twisting around with carefree ease.
My teeth, they press, they mash, they grind,
In every bite, a joy I find.
The flavor fades, but still, I chew,
A habit now, a ritual true.
It keeps my mind in gentle sway,
As time slips softly, fades away.
A bubble forms, a gentle pop,
A fleeting moment, then it’s gone.
Yet still, I chew, the rhythm stays,
A simple pleasure in my days.
About the Creator
Abbas
Versatile writer skilled in both tale & stories. Captivate readers with engaging content & immersive narratives. Passionate about informing, inspiring, & entertaining through words.
Smart phones, Humans and Aliens.
WARNING. I will be tapping into one of your favorite creative tensions: The absurdity of humans worshipping their glowing rectangles as if they were tiny oracles. There’s something deliciously poetic about that contradiction, and it lends itself beautifully to an instructive proviso.
By Novel Allen5 days ago in Poets
Comments (1)
Simple joys are the best!