Classic poem of the day
Though I ought to love the moonlight
I fear the harsh cold of the night air.
I call a maid, have all the windows shut:
flowers in the vase suddenly fragrant.
Member poem of the day
It is a smell— a sweet lavender from running through fields or an overwhelming vanilla from tailing behind your mother or a fragrant burnt from blowing out candles.
It is a taste— the saltiness lingering in the ocean air or bitterness from a disastrous Thanksgiving or soggy from your first kiss with a girl or spicy transporting you right back home.
It is a sound— a heavy bass from your gothic te...
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