I see soup; and how each ingredient is carefully added, one by one – a dash of love to form the base, and sometimes not. Perhaps a pinch of neglect; constantly stirred by the steady hands of time. Who shall taste of this soup? Now I see bones, once strong, but now for flavor; sprinkles of wind-swept dust and a smile on chapped lips. They may savor this soup, memories and things that cling, another dash of passion, and then some pain. The flames must be just right.
2 comments:
thanks for the comment :)
i really enjoy your blog too. The way that you take something like soup, which is so often looked over, and make it into something poetic is beautiful
wow, that is really powerful and moving.
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