At dawn,
love’s unripe berries glimmer a brilliant white
the kind of color
that feels as though promises were made
in favour of it.
Dreaming only of you
I stretch out and sense using fingertips,
I await sweet nectar
and blood-red allegiance to sip.

 

 

Photo credits: Pinterest

Posted for “Quadrille #74″ @ dVerse Pub

& on the Tuesday Platform @ Real Toads