A hermit strolls in solitude,
Through aisles of spectral hush;
Each item glows in lyric touch—
A loaf, a pear, a thought subdued.
A breeze of absence wafts the shelves,
As jars reflect the moonlit haze;
Soup cans muse their silent ways,
Their labels hum from dusty elves.
Walls fold into a dreamlike sway,
Perspective bends, aisles intertwine;
Where groceries dwell in lines divine,
A hermit shops, the world away.
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Author:
crypticbard (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: July 18th, 2025 05:32
- Comment from author about the poem: ....here now is the prequel of "grocery aisle poetry" Perhaps posting it after wasn't so much a mistake after all.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 3
Offline)
Comments1
Enchanted shopping instead of elves I thought gremlins were adjusting the prices. At times demonic with shoppers possessed. A fun read Cryptic.
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