• zeeliciousbakes

Tick tock, the plums ran up the clock


Pained, tired, hungry

Resting peacefully

Shut from the outside world

Caged in a small bubble

Ice cold,

Shivering


Tick...

Tock,

Tick...

Tock


Warm air filling up

With cosiness

Smelling of freshly baked plums

And surrounded by

Almond coloured walls


Cocooned in nothing

But a deep, red, blanket

Soothing whispers

Quietly hush

Into a deep, dark, sleep


Skin fragile,

Wrinkly,

Shrivelled up

Like a broken hearted worm

Covering for shelter


Once ripe

But now old

Youthfulness gone

Yet beauty still remains

Crisp as autumn leaves

Soft as golden sponge


Fine lines

Protruding veins

Intoxicated with drops of

Sweet vanilla

Seek to mark years of

Strength and wisdom


A fighter in its shell

A warrior in its sleep


Tick...

Tock,

Tick..

Tock.

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