anxiousartichoke
Both a blessing and a curse.
Channel the spell that we've rehearsed.
Magic swirls through blizzard snow
Sparkling radiance we've come to know.
Pumpkin spice.
The scent of coming home,
orange candles, sweetness.
The loving arms of a parent you haven't seen in centuries.
It's been so long since you've tasted cookies this sweet,
tea that warms the soul.
In mere minutes, it freezes over;
the celebration is masked
by snow.
writing since 2015 · 2 entries · 2 days shown up
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the words anxiousartichoke reaches for
snowpumpkinspicescentcominghomeorangecandlessweetnesslovingarmsparentcenturiestastedcookiessweet