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
Björn Rudbergs writings 
Nice, Bjorn!
lovely
Methinkst our muses are plugged intO the same outlet. Saffron, indeed
I noticed 😉
This is Gorgeous!
Every Saturday morning needs to be this delicious.
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.
This is heady with sensuous imagery. Perfectly accompanied by the artwork.
… Saturday mornings should always be like this. Romantic and just … inspirational.
Gorgeous, gorgeous, gorgeous 😀
This is the third synaesthesia meantion in 3 days… there must be something indigo occurring . Beautiful poem
Oh this is just lovely. The artwork perfect for it.
So beautiful!!!
Gorgeous, sensual… Oh the glory of Saturday morning
A dreamy and beautiful delight of a read Bjorn!!
Gorgeous and sensual.
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. 🙂