Fog hurts.
It reminds me of the day when
I lost my grandpa.
He used to love foggy days,
We'd play all sorts of games,
Many of which were completely made up.
And now he's gone.
The fog is just a constant reminder
That I'll never see him again.
YOU ARE READING
Poetry By Me! (Morgan, he/him)
PoesíaThese are poems that I write. My pen name is Morgan, so call me that! Also, I use he/they pronouns and love to write. Please, if you find any you particularly like, let me know in the comments! I plan to publish some of this in a book, just need to...
