The Meal Offered By Poetrysoup

Gazing from my hut through the global window. I saw a golden pot of soup Out of which millions of aroma did flow And a lovely label engraved on it reads poetrysoup. I ran towards the pot, though at zero mile Then I discovered its ingredient was innovation plus imagery. The meats and spicy chicken wings, gave me a welcome smile: I was hooked by its colors of proud and passionate poetry. I was given a plateful for free. Its little drop on my tongue I would not Want to share with my stomach for it to feel But because I want to finish the meal I could not. it was a great feast sealed with golden cord My stomach danced at a glimpse of the soup My body was triggered into a new poetic world After it digested the lovely meal offered by poetrysoup.