In the late winter
When spines poke from the ground
And the wind breathes life into twigs
Invisible children play on swings
Dotted green and matted white
Everything is black and white with bright blue
Your eyes can't adjust like they use to
And sunglasses sit idle on most days
Dust gathers on flip-flops
Boots sprinkled with salt
Like stains of a long day
In the late winter
A/N: the photo is surprisingly of my backyard and I used Pixlr to edit it.
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Endogenous
PoetryA poetry collection. Some chapters are dedicated to people for voting, commenting, etc. Highest Ranking: #137 in Poetry
