in my own décor
a Shakespearean sonnet
I’ll put them all together – gussied up
like the ruffled panties of the eighteenth
century, waves of forbidden delight
I’ll build my own hut made of turf and moss
*
in its own décor, on the mantelpiece
all these comfortable bits are aligned:
pine cones, candles, reed sticks, golden honey
sweet caramel and creamy vanilla
*
to bring the most enjoyable pleasure
the aroma of hot apple crumble
fills the air with homey ambience as in
the most welcomin’ inn – heart of the hearth
*
you said that only happy birds fly high
I wonder if that’s still true till today
*
October 2022
***
Thank you for reading!
About the Creator
Moon Desert
UK-based
BA in Cultural Studies
Crime Fiction: Love
Poetry: Friend
Psychology: Salvation
Where the wild roses grow full of words...
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Seconds ago, the sullen sun set on the two of us… my exuberant furry companion and me. A fresh breeze embraces us, delivering welcome relief from the day’s oppressive heat. His typical stumbling and staggering along — apace with a sloth — has turned into trip-trapping, high-stepping, almost skipping along.
By Angie the Archivist 📚🪶3 days ago in Petlife
Comments (1)
Such a comforting tale! The line "all these comfortable bits are aligned:" shouted out at me as I do this like a magpie, bits of flash looking rock, an odd twist in a piece of cast off rusty fence wire or a dried flower. You have described pure and innocent beauty! Topped off with Apple Crumble....! (would there be rhubarb in it by chance?)