Noel Sevilla


Cinnamon


This is a one way road.
Those who dare to take it,
Never return and leave
No fingerprints, no messages.
They say nymphs along the road,
Coming from a dreamy island,
Captivate them with their dulcified
Voices and lead them
To a city emerging from the ground
And made of glass, cloud and cinnamon.
As they greet the drivers,
Gnomes chime the bells
And later the city,
Together with the visitors,
Sinks into the ground.

Submitted: Sunday, September 22, 2013
Edited: Monday, September 23, 2013

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