At Your Wishing Well

All inside this room
recedes into the blue
of minuscule hours.

Scriabin’s arabesques
have called it a night;
slipped away to ponder

rumours of minted
chocolate—notes of
ripe vanilla that speak
in warm silken tones.

Would it be too much to
wish this second linger;
slowly turn to stone.

Published by mawherablue

Teller of tall tales.... View more posts