Saturday morning

· by · in free verse, poetry, Real Toads. ·

Your voice tastes saffron,
cardamom and green,
as you whisper
secrets in your sleep.

I dreamed of strawberries
      but
at the break of dawn
your eyes were symphonies,
a taste of moonbeam
      silver spilled.
It’s honey, silk, vermillion me
we slide together,
sleep. It’s Saturday.

Sleep by Francisco Goya

Rommy wants us to use synesthesia at toads. Soon it’s bedtime and Saturday morning.
—
March 10, 2017

17 responses to “Saturday morning”

  6. I really love the heady sensuousness of this piece. It does feel like one of those rare lazy Saturdays where my husband and I don’t have to rush anywhere.

  16. Oh the sensuality here, Bjorn…breathtaking. I always loved strawberries. So apt that I’m reading this on a Saturday morn..it just feels silky & sweet…Thank you for sharing! One of my favorites of yours I think. 🙂

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