The gritty smell of rain,
The humming of the bus,
What exactly was I supposed to do today?
Or
The warm Sunday glow of the heating,
Mixed with the cold morning air,
Goodbye to that essay I had planned because Im too busy sleeping.
Or
The empty ringing of the 10th day of holidays,
Nothing to do at all,
I'd rather walk around in the sun than revise, what do you say?
26.2.16
ESTÁS LEYENDO
Paintbox
PoésiePoems from the inner corners of my brain, under my nails and the end of my paintbrush.
