But please, let me not die with longing in my heart
wishing to walk the leaf’s edge in a fresh cup of tea
from a foreign land steaming behind glass that sits
in the souvenir shop of my imagination’s dream
Let me leave with the memory of flavor
a sweet seasoned last breath of spices
sold at the market of my turbaned heart
wrapping experience as a sparkling jewel
I desire to depart with less woe
not a single too-late left to bare
the strength to finish everything
moistened finger tip and crumbs
Empty backpack postcards sent
train, plane, horse, and camel
dunes, secret rituals, and brews
the shoulder of another language
souvenir shop of my imagination’s dream
wrapping experience as a sparkling jewel
moistened finger tips and crumbs
even the shoulder of another language
‘twixt I leave this journey of my soul
by Kevon Simpson © 2015
Write Your Soul Free coming in February!
