It's Still Life

To Stir

I sleep,
profound in a dream
of molten chocolate.

We are cannibals
stirring an iron pot,

drenched from eruptions
of its gentle simmer.

We are a whirlpool of dance.

And then I wake,
speechless

in a blaze of sunlight.

Morning always comes
with its deep blue skies,
laughing me awake.

4:dVerse ©️ Misky 2019