The days roll by
Like the clouds in the sky,
Slow, heavy, and gray,
Each day
When I am walking the halls
Full of unfamiliar faces,
All I can think of is you.
Each night,
When I lie with the wool blanket
Over my feet
And the thin sheets
Over my head,
I can't help but miss your warmth.
I miss the way you would embrace me,
I miss the way you could comfort me.
YOU ARE READING
CCCLXV - Poetry (Part 2)
PoetryPart 2 of my 365--this year: 366--challenge. A poem a day for a year.
