WanderlustA Poem by ☯
A teacup dangles from the end of my finger,
the last drops plopping onto the tiled floor. A reverie lingering above my head, leaning on a Paris' thin balcony, eyes closed. The bed sheets are wrinkled, the pillows lost in seas of milky silk. A scent floats above the breathless marble, can you see the olive groves blooming in Greece? Tinkling bells echo the cobblestone street, the tires of this bicycle are worn dangerously thin. Sushi shops sing up the avenue, Tokyo skips along with me embracing this restless skin. A thick scarf hugs my neck, a painter quietly evolving his own piece of life. Oddly welcoming rickety wooden chairs rest, a trifle of London is savored in an old snapshot. The adrenaline of tomorrow runs the wanderlust humming in my soul. Maybe this is as high as I'll ever get, on top of my imagination's throne.. ~*~*~*
© 2012 ☯Author's Note
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