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Glint or gleam

The light’s textures dancing

a sip of grey lit mem’ry

rain against dry fancy

——  ——

the rain let’s the glass of red dance in the light.  But it’s not a glass on a fall day.  It’s  how a night after the last drip rinks on the whispering everyday sundae cones are worth the waltz and or weary waddle back happily huffing sweetened cream.  Chocolate and etc.

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By Starman Jones

Everything and Nothing interests me. I cook read, write and even have to clean. I SHOULD NOTE: I'm 40 something.

One reply on “Glint or gleam”

I dream of the short term dish I should e execute for our hostel house party. I think it’s carrot tart. I still reel from the usual meanest designed I swear to test whether I’ll care and like a jerk I do with a nice leak around the blades words… I even effing Hope joy even if a few of the blades sharp cut truly, meant joy… why hold a grudge? Yet I cuss… I cuss too knowing nothing is more true than the screen velvet hiding the scenes to come or why I hear the words when I’m not initiating so the sting is whatever mean bs. I do hope I’m worth the anguish

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