Wednesday, August 26, 2015

P, P, P

I finished another notebook, this one had a grey spine. I got so caught up in writing I didn't write a poem dedicated to these past few months like I usually do. That felt a little odd, but here is the last poem I wrote in this notebook. 

is purple wisteria
clean fresh warm
and up forever.

On Earth they come in
shifts, but in heaven
they bloom every morning
and die every night at dawn
and come back

Heaven is juicy ripe peaches
that don't have to soften
or ripen.

They come in overflowing
and never go bad.

And the peach fuzz
tickles your

Riley Welch

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