It was getting cold again.
Autumn slithered it's way in without warning.
It was like a snake.
The cold nipped at his nose and cheeks leaving a brilliant rose color behind.
His breath came out in short puffs.
The scent of burning wood coming from some of the fireplaces was refreshing.
The calming outdoors still wasn't enough to smother his inner storm.
It raged in him seeking vengeance.
With aching turmoil, he sighed.
He thought to himself, maybe,
Maybe I shouldn't have gotten up this morning.
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My Poems
PuisiMy poem app went to hell so I'm posting all my works here from now on. They are a mix of types and a lot are sad.
