My sister is spoiled,
Like milk that’s been in the fridge for a year.
My sister is spicy,
Like a ghost chili pepper.
My sister is sour,
Like an overripe lemon.
My sister is good,
Like a homemade apple pie.
My sister is salty,
Like a roasted peanut.
My sister is bitter,
Like a cup of ground coffee.
My sister is pleasant,
Like a batch of moms cookies.
My sister is cool,
Like a glass of ice water.
It’s when all these flavors mix
That my head starts to hurt
About the Creator
n.j fox
addicted to creating
lover of tea and snacks
obsessed with words
admirer of aesthetics
inspired by creative souls
follower of adventure
gifted with creativity
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The Devil's Triangle
The sails ruffled in the breeze as we cruised along. The Sea Breeze was a mid-size catamaran that sailed out of Royal Naval Dockyard in Bermuda. We had booked this trip weeks in advance and were now looking at our Captain, Spike and two boat hands. Paddy and Wilson seemed like nice guys, joking around with the passengers and telling us some stories about Bermuda that only locals would know. Their island accents sounded almost British but they were pleasant to listen to.
By Barbara Gode Wilesa day ago in Fiction
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