Rumble

My senses satisfied with sweet things.
Air of beauty with scents of satisfaction.
Know not what the future brings,
or where I lost so much traction.

Right now, right now, it pains me not,
as I rumble to the beat.
We’re taken by the same ol’ lot,
Either taken or scared by the heat.

Rumble in my kitchen, drink with me wine,
be consumed by all this could be.
Futures are there for the makin’ in time,
Need not be such a mystery.

© 2014 The Rum Review