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.
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