Watching The Paper Soak Up Errant Coffee

Photo by Anastasia Ilina-Makarova on Pexels.com

Watching the paper soak up errant coffee
Spillage; correcting the bland, empty page
Blocked before you wasted the elixir of life
Words summoned now like a pensive sage

Freely letting loose a volley of images
We are released to our new mode of narration
Blinded aesthetics on a crisp winter morning
Forever allowed to remain alive in short bursts of inspiration

She’s Shakin’ Those Hips

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She’s shakin’ those hips
Drivin’ me wild with thirst
If I try to tag along
My mind’ll surly burst
Please loosen my tie
Could I have a slug of wine
If I close my eyes
Could she ever be mine
It’s a delicate inferno
Blazin’ through the night
I find myself dry
Only she’s in my sight
Vision’s gettin’ thick
Consciousness gettin’ deep
My soul to believe
She’s too salacious to sleep

 

Image by Khusen Rustamov from Pixabay