The smell of death called Charlie
He ran and ran
Until a familiar mop of black hair swept up in the wind
I found her
YOU ARE READING
Dry Puddles
Poetry"What are you doing?" Jumping. "Jumping in what?" Puddles duh. "But there's nothing there!" So what? "You're crazy." I know.
Rainy Deserts(21/9/17)
The smell of death called Charlie
He ran and ran
Until a familiar mop of black hair swept up in the wind
I found her
