Sunday, August 17, 2014
Shaken. Awaken. My head in a daze.
Achin', forsaken. Squint against the rays.
Morning break in, stumble through the maze.
What's that baking? A smell worthy of praise.
Kitchen. Bacon. Essense of resplendent bouquet.
Alive. Unshaken. These are the glory days.
August 17, 2014
Share to Twitter
Share to Facebook
Share to Pinterest
Post a Comment
Post Comments (Atom)