A Moist Berry
A moist berry was all I could think about.
That burst to wet my tongue.
A quenching I could drain away
for comfort that would numb.
That soul surrounding other berries
who's bowl would make them one.
Where every spoon dividing them
would make a bath undone.
And dampen all my spirits bound
for hunger that was lost.
To honor me with kisses
from a spirit now with cost.
That every bite now taken
meant a pleasure for my loss.
Meaning every cost worth making
was a work I'd do for gloss.
Copyright © Trevor Mcleod | Year Posted 2019
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment