Jam Sandwiches
This daily bread gone stale,
When oxygen overtakes me.
The butter rancid and queer,
When everything has matured.
How shall I eat now?
If your absence only silence breathes,
And I have no heart.
Cometh where I shall feast,
I choose no peanut, no spread.
For in the place of you,
Only the richest jam will cover.
A taste of pure sweetness gone,
My palate regretting the day,
That your light was quenched….
No comments:
Post a Comment