Phillip M.

Slowly Gone

Warm apple smells waft upwards in the air
the aroma cruises along the room,
it signals with a faint stream of light,
it runs like a stream curving in the breeze,
it coughs and splatters,
and finds its destiny,
it simmers,
it sputters,
it dances as it slides.
It is a large yellow circle nestled in shades of
shimmering gold,
with a shaded coating of sugary dust
sprinkled loosely on top.
It stands out with hope
as its fragrant messengers alert
me to its presence.
I follow the messengers
as they beckon in the breeze,
and it is slowly gone.



[TABLE OF CONTENTS, LHS CLASS OF 2010 EDITION]


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