I'm sorry about the birthday present.
I love candles, but I don't love
the smell of Pink Dragon Fruit.
Most of the time, I tolerate
its sweet aroma, but sometimes
a whiff of beer trickles through
the air. Before I know it, I'm
in the Caribbean Islands drinking
from a tall glass with a pink umbrella,
lounging on the white sandy beaches
with not a care in the world. I'm
hula dancing on grass tables, and I
can't hula dance, but who cares?
The world is mine, I am the world
when bitten by this pink dragon. I
touch the rim with my fingertips
knowing if I falter, an apology
won't allay the breadth of emotion
burning in this little whick.
Poetry Jam- Give a Verb Its Day
3WW- emotion, falter, touch