aperitif

the jug is gone, the
sweets poured out,
i've come to love
the tea of doubt, this
loose leeway
spelled wrong, of course,
cause if it's not
you'd lie, but worse;

oh, three am, you're
late but checked, your
coat is all but
nothing left, so
smile, and dance, and marvel
in
the words which we
create within.

~k.

. that's right. sometimes i like to rhyme. but at last i can spell it.