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About This Author
My name is Joy, and I love to write.
Why poetry, here? Because poetry uplifts its writer, and if she is lucky enough, her readers, too. Around us, so many objects abound to write about. Once a poet starts with a smallest, most trivial object, he shall discover that his pen will spill out what is most delicate or most majestic hidden inside him. Since the classics sometimes dealt with lofty subjects with a lofty language, a person with poetry in his soul may incline to emulate that. That is understandable. Poetry does that to a person: it enlarges the soul and gives it wings. Yet, to really soar, a poet needs to take off from the ground.
 
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Everyday Canvas #908585 added April 7, 2017 at 11:56am
Restrictions: None
Savoring the Mushy
Lyn’s Prompt: Tasteful features-- Think of the way you savor your food, how you take your time biting into it, chewing, tasting, and then swallowing. Apply something that gives you a similar feeling to a personal relationship (not biting) but how do savor that person. How does it feel to partake in their conversation and company?
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After you finish your Tiramisu, you lick your lips and scribble his name on a napkin and dream he was at the table with you because he is the sun that warms you and the wind and the lightning that whirls around you.
When he is away, even for a day or a few hours, your tears rise to the clouds, and you find the pages of your book to turn blank and meaningless, and you miss the sound of his voice as if you miss your favorite desert. You feel like falling when illusory meteors from the unknown keep hitting you and making you lose your balance.
You are so lost in his skies that you cannot rest or sleep; still, he commandeers your dreams.
So, you go in your kitchen to cook up something for him, for you know he’ll return. Milk and honey, rice flour, vanilla, butter, dark chocolate chips…all organic.
The food takes wings, and when ready, it sits on the table with red roses and tapered candles, and you wait impatiently for the seven wonders of the night.
Surely, he returns sweet and sour, salted by the outside world, but in his smile, you taste wine, in his words poetry, in his arms the heavens where sparrows sing, leaves tremble, and the grass curls, while you both take it slow and choosy to savor the taste of each other. That is when you realize magic exists in an extraordinary way, and you know he’ll cause you to smile. He’ll cause you to care. He’ll cause you to be joyful, and he’ll cause you to see your own true self.
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My final note:  
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© Copyright 2017 Joy (UN: joycag at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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