The Poet’s Fall

The Poet’s Fall

She leans forward and kisses him. He savors the taste of her lips – smacks his own to enhance the flavour and make permanent the memory he is creating. When he opens his eyes again she smiles before him.

“So, how was it?”

“It tastes like raspberries

hidden in overgrown blueberries

plucked from a Summer field

on a lovely Autumn’s night.”

“I can’t imagine such a thing”

“No. It is a place of dreams.”

– F H Hakansson

7 thoughts on “The Poet’s Fall

  1. Naw that is shhho shweet πŸ˜› “tastes like raspberries hidden in overgrown blueberries” – love it! πŸ˜€

  2. I tell you, writing a happy poem is never that easy.
    Perhaps, we are too busy savoring those moments to write about them πŸ˜€
    Nice poem πŸ™‚

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