Alphabet Soup Minuscule

J.C. Scheff

Rusted Souvenir’s


Numbness creeps in, slowly
As if it was the air.
Fingers folded together,
Restless, empty.

A pumpkin colored sun hides it rays.
A dented can,
As odorous rotten brew drips.

Words invisible.
A closed mouth, held tightly together.
Turns a different shade of grey.

A knot develops,
Thick like agate.
A sour taste-

One rusted souvenir,
Floating softly,
Hidden among leaves,
Of the same color

As hour’s slip past,
Like a cool wind-
Eyes closed, just to be with you…

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