Cinnamon.

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Cinnamon

Cinnamon sticks.

Cinnamon Rolls.

Cinnamon bliss.

The first opened gift at christmas eve.
The apple cider and orange leafs.
The freshly cleaned laundry.
The wake on a hot summer morning french toast sticks.

Cinnamon is sweet, it has its past. But can the cinnamon last? Will the freshness and nostalgia stick after all these years like the syrup on a dirty plate?

Or will it wash away like the old summer days?

Cinnamon is a wonder, you know. It may not seem like it but it's future will only grow.

Just like you, and me. Everything has a past. Just you wait and see.

-K.M

cat in a box, poetryजहाँ कहानियाँ रहती हैं। अभी खोजें