A skosh of sunlight through the blinds,
a skosh of honey stirred in tea,
a skosh of courage tucked in shoes.
You tell me, "It's not much—just a
skosh," like scraps were never enough,
like slivers couldn't count as whole.
But I’ve seen pinkie promises hold
entire universes between two fingers.
A skosh is the whisper before the
shout, the inhale before a Yes.
It's the space between your hand
and mine, stretched but still reaching.
This life, made of skoshes stitched,
a patchwork quilt of almost too little.
And yet, it’s everything we ever need
a skosh of love always filling the rest.
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Author:
gray0328 (
Offline) - Published: December 19th, 2025 10:59
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 18
Offline)
Comments2
Hello! This is the first poem I've looked at being new to the site, but this line: "But I’ve seen pinkie promises hold entire universes between two fingers. " , stood out for me as such a combination of innocence and existential energies...excellent work there! I was also impressed with how far you stretched the rhyme within the prose-- it almost came as a surprise.
Thanks for sharing your feedback Allen I appreciate your it
I love unique words and skosh is one of them. A gun read Gray
Thanks Soren
Most welcome Gray
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