Quietness

You see my vintage phone sitting on the desk, dust settling it doesn’t ring anymore, still as 12 am. clock strikes silence over head. And the curtains on the walls immovable, the threads are lifeless now yet reflects the shadows of bygones. The quietude takes me to an abandoned land of dead flowers, rotten. You…

Vintage beauty

she is the vintage beautyso appealing and enchantingand clearas the hands of clock striketick.tick.tick.her eyes disseminates stardustas the galaxies endowing the blue skies aboveand the flowers bestowing the lands belowyellow. red. green.fragrant and pleasingshe sounds like a songbirdhumming rhymes and poetryfollowed by the charms of her loverand the instancesall that form lumps in her throatand…