Poetry. By me. Many of the poems are dark in nature, but not all. Enjoy.
Wednesday, January 18, 2017
Arrowroot
Cupid's toy, a silly herb,
A binding potion, skin to skin,
Morph she and he to them and then,
A combination meant to be, but
Cherub asked not he nor she.
Baked and cooled, on rack
Await, each cookie,
Critic's eager mouth or plate.
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