Golden Hour

Honey trickles through the oak blinds

Rolling mellifluously, dripping on the cotton and leather,

Dusting the glass table with golden pollen

And the daffodils with syrupy sun

Oh, how it rolls the lake in a bourbon rug

As earthly orbs sip drunkenly before the long slumber.

2 Comments

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s