loose threads

So yesterday’s haiku was fun, yeah? Bad days happen. Let’s move on! I’m having an intense sense memory as I type this: the room I’m in suddenly smells like the library I went to as a child. Odd. Hello, old SPL. I miss your old book smell and hiding in the YA stacks upstairs reading books that were ~too mature~ for me.

How much can you say
in a handful of seconds?
A moon full, grapes sweet