Winged Honey

 
Winged honey,
diaphanous treacle
forged in those vast
golden angelic smelters,
its covering the universe
you know,
awakening dawn
brush strokes of deep starlight
wanting me to fly.

My little pockets were full of
this golden fantastic
and I never even
had a clue

that divinity
sings within me.
#474
© Stephen Roberts

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