A Chance Meeting

Meandering along the colorful road,

I sniff the scent of rosemary leaves

Drifting through the breeze to meet me.

How did you guess that number?

The cook asks you with a puzzled look

On his face. I picked it by random.

Let’s all settle down to a cup of tea

And a warm hearth at our feet.

The clock strikes a heavy blow

To the curfew of many little ones

And those that are only little inside.

Cover my trail with burning incense,

So no one can follow behind me.

I fight off sleep so frantically,

As I doze into a puddle beside the street.

A bite of biscuit clings to my teeth

As I sing a melody out of sync.

Only cocoons hang in between.

So something beautiful awaits

To be born again on a mountainside.


Author: Gordon S. Bowman III

Writer, Visual Artist, Blogger

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