about time for the music to keep on spinnin'
and the world will makeshift dances around it's molten centre
because what would existence feel needed for,
if no life enjoyed the sounds of our singin'
so while twirling mysteries of sunshine's calls
meet the honeysuckle hums of the bees
may the picnic smiles and champagne sips
among bags and bags of baguettes and cheese
be remembered
and loved.
-
Fin.
About the Creator
Ruby Red
Heya friend, I'm Red!
I write poetry, so subscribe for a hint of vulnerability, some honesty and the occasional glimpse behind my mask 🌱
Taking a break from Vocal; focusing on my anthology 🫶💖
AI is not art.
The First Rainbow Baby
Pitter-patter, pitter-patter. The rain fell in rhythmic splatters, slowly slowing, but still constant. Mira rolled onto her side pulling the blanket tight against her ears, but still she could hear chitter-chatter and scurrying feet of the creatures that refused to sleep in the lower decks.
By A. J. Schoenfeld2 days ago in Fiction
Comments (2)
This was extremely wonderful! Your imageries were so vivid!
Your poetry skills are phenomenal! 🌟📚 Loved every word! 😊