It’s pumpkin soup deep rusty orange

pepper on top It’s spicy

red chilli hot paprika It’s exotic

moroccan meals and candles and bright

glowing lights against the rain that pours

like hot chocolate into a mug of

porcelain like the bowl that holds,

that cuddles my twice baked custard

caramel cream, apples and cinnamon

sticks that peak out of my chai latte.

It’s red lipstick on a pale faced

with the wind brushing against her fringe

-d scarf tassles running in the wind that

is not as strong as it is in the spring

in my step as I walk through the park

that I got as I pulled to my favourite coffee shop

for winter clothes and shoes and coats

my cup with a bit of chocolate

because its brings you endorphins

that jitter as you run in the afternoon

that sets as day takes an early mark.


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