Run on poetry.

by cerissadival

I wrote this piece in a writer’s word palette class, September 28th 2013, at Vassar College with a program that was made up entirely of  wealthy foreign kids. All but me I would say so.

The moon shines like a bowl of recently whisked eggs,milk and a dash of vanilla to form what in only a few hours will be the blazing,ball of heat arising from behind the tall,icy topped mountains and kissing the ocean’s vast emptiness, crackling the sand with heat, almost like a large bowl of overheated popcorn,with a scent so sweet and a voice so kind to awaken the world but say goodnight to another, where the people are just rising from their saliva filled,face impressed pillows while in another world that seems so far, is slipping into their cold sheets, welcoming their bodies,welcoming a place of soon to be warmth and peace yet these people of different worlds are such opposites, at the end of their day the same baking moon, already cooking the sun’s arrival is the same grace both individuals share, the same peace they both experience.