Sometimes winter comes
Earlier than expected.
I wait on the side of the road
For your red civic to come down the street.
I stuff gloved hands
Into deep pockets,
The scarf I threw on
Not doing much for the cold.
Missing bright summer days
When we'd
Stick our hands out of the top
Of your old blue convertible.
Wind brushed our fingers
Going 90 on a 45 mile road.
But summer fades to winter,
And sometimes it comes earlier than expected.
I wait on the side of the road
For your new car,
But my hands grow cold as I wait
And your red civic never comes,
Leaving nothing but my
Blue, frosted fingers
In the cold wind of winter.
YOU ARE READING
Minor Inconveniences {Poetry}
Poetry"It was nothing important, A single stupid thought." -- -- -- -- -- A collection of poetry I doubt will ever be published, so I hope you enjoy it. Three years in the making, it's a trip through anxiety, love, heartbreak, depression, the works. Imag...
