when I weep at night

Its never the onions

sliced for supper

still lingering on my hands

long after the dishes are dried,

stacked in neat rows

behind a closed door.

.

You smell of crisp frosted air

and pine needles swept from the dirt path

when the wind rushes past.

.

I layer pepper, salt, spices

hoping to add enough flavor

to the meat on my plate.

.

.

Inspired by http://thefragrancewriter.com/2020/04/05/journey-man/

taste of the ocean

as the rain ends
the earth offers up
its rich, loamy breath

mantled by darkness
I lay awake
breathing in its scent

as you lay beside me
bonelessly dreaming
and I wish for the ocean

the wind becomes the sound
of waves crashing, I taste
my tears salty as the sea.

Thanks, Phill, for the inspiration! To read his – click here

taste of salt on your lips

Here goes the next round – have fun all! The challenge is posted here ramblingsfromamum so take a peek! Words are river, salt, and book.

patchwork quilt beneath
stretched out across the grass
just beyond mud
along the banks of an almost river

spine bent
the book lay forgotten
as your lips traveled
up mine

then tasting
the salty nape of my neck
beneath the ringlets
heat left there