Polis Jungle

I am tropical.

The temperate fall together as gathered mist in a hissed, pitter-patter voice.

Vanilla. Cayenne. Cacao. Ginger.

One sweet droplet falls to my skin from above.

I peer out through the rattan and find myself here.

Others plan. While some may, most won’t. 

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s