Fries ode

Tent and steaming,
Golden like the sun,
Fries condense joy of life and child-like behaviours.
Fingers are sticky,
oily stains on my dress,
And a bunch of fries
Like wedding bouquet
in my hands.

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Monday theft

My stomac bumping,
My breathing getting short
Tell me another Monday is coming.
In its simplicity,
A single day can grab the freedom
of the whole weekend.
Time spent walking
Among flowers and mountains,
The curious stirring for an exotic dish,
The calls with the lived ones
Get immediately sorted as memories,
Once the Monday comes.