A life filled with vanilla dreams, made stagnant days endlessly scream. A little spice could shake things up, cinnamon sticks enhances cups.
Sweet honey mixed with almond milk, emotions feel as soft as silk. Sprinkle nutmeg, perfect enhance, tastebuds form a euphoric dance.
A dose of joy, miracle drink, soothes hearts so minds can clearly think. A pure escape, new ritual, make peaceful times habitual.
Pinches of spice give life a boost, as new flavors are introduced. Aromas linger in the air, provides some zest and endless flair.
– Grace Y. Estevez – Reddy
Written for dVerse poets pub This week’s d’Verse Poetics Prompt, Merrill D. Smith encourages us to select three or more ingredients from the 25 listed on the page (check link above). My choices were Vanilla, Cinnamon, and Nutmeg. Hope you enjoy.💕
Memories began, when she was five, with not much care, feeling just fine. Spending her days, unknotting binds, most pleasant child, kept within lines. Her brilliant mind, was masked for thrills, her deepest thoughts, went unfulfilled. Naughty but in the purest way, angry that fun, could never stay.
As sweet sixteen soon came to be, unmasking lies, for all to see, her darkest fears and solemn tales, picked herself up, when all hands failed. Adulthood swiftly came to play, removing bows and pretty lace. Moving away, to a new place, with no old ties, a new escape.
She met new dolls, gave them fun names, so paper cut, they looked the same. They grew up fast, sharing some bonds, of her strange ways, they were quite fond. An angel came, swept her right up, soaking her tears, filling her cup. He washed his hands, when he was done, leaving her torn, making her run.
Ran straight into his opposite, numbing herself, if for a bit, but realized he was not fit. He screamed too loud, the walls were hit. She thought of ways to go off grid, too late some how, they now had kids, did not work out, support all hid, found inner strength to close the lid.
Sun had emerged, behind the clouds, love came in fast, it sang so loud. Enough for two, three was a crowd, shinning with grace, she took a bow. It claimed her heart, also her mind, the love was true, one of a kind. One small pebble, stuck in the way, it got kicked fast, it could not stay.
Finally healed, remorse had fled, her love was real, not in her head. Followed the paths, to where they led, so she could sleep, on her own bed. Her fairytale was not an act, epiphanies to reenact. Echoes are gone, that is a fact the best is now, what she attracts.
