Where once we floated, happy croutons.. in a hot and salted soup
Blissfully unaware of all but us...us desirous, two...
We bobbed... in self indulgence.. hot and sour..
Wanton
Wanderlust
Stew...
We sipped, we smiled, we whiled away many a handsome kiss
Planting selfish moments upon selfish lips
Then...
..(as it always does) ...
That wholesome bowl of adoration
Dried upon said plate
Cherished scent of wanton soup
Devoured...shame.... too late....
So now we pay the bills observing golfs monotonous green
Yet I can smile at
Cherished murmurs behind a jaded
Silk spun screen....
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
You mix desire and food that will not be found on many restaurant menus, love it.