Within the proprietor

butterflies flutter, kissing,

tickling an empty stomach.

 

Bees busily banter;

the unfortunate collectors

of thoughts-

swatted.

 

Catacombs,

supply next months cache of decor

adorning swift breaths of

fleurs et bonheur.

 

Enveloping the raw scent

of a poignant pear,

an open mind,

and an open mouth

serve as confidantes.

 

Bites of love

eternalize on tongues;

like juice from a mango,

trickles of escaped taste

linger on curved lips.

 

A sensory mind

flowers into an admonition,

reminding all that

an internal spring

remains

eternal.