Stitching Street Smoke

Over evaporating minutes,

And easy, tumbling words,

A meeting was held.

Smoke rose skywards,

Ashes parted to reunite with the ground,

White sticks of indulgence

Marked a trail of minutes drowned.

Floating in their bubble,

Savouring moments of calm in chaos.

Clasped between their fingers,

They held the burning key to their universe.

And the walls grew thinner,

And the curtain folded higher,

It was time to go back to their worlds,

Mouths hungrier with tantalised desire.

via Daily Prompt: Savor



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