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Poetry: “Balm”

So I was thinking… Can I wring out another poem about the PSL? Yes, yes I can.

***~***~***~***

Balm

But once a year it comes
When summer’s death
Has filled my soul
With rain drenched mourning
Smallest balm
Loved world wide
When even I must worship
At the crooked altar
Of late stage capitalism
Drink of such renown
Around the world
Beloved spices
Known to one and all
By abbreviation
And cherished everywhere

***

Copyright © 2018 · All Rights Reserved · Fantasy Transcendent

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