Morning chills, sunny noons have begun
Out goes the summer with a sheepish grin
Winter is here, knocking at my door,
Should I let you in?
Late riser – the sun,
Plays peek-a-boo with élan,
Oh, winter is here, knocking at my door,
Should I let you in?
Moist breeze tickles my nose,
Sends happy shivers through my pose,
Yearning for a cuddle, waiting for winter
If I let you in, will you hold me close?
YOU ARE READING
Grey Strokes
PoetryThe color grey is an interesting shade - non-committal, on the fence, always on edge. The verses you find in this little book of poems are much like the color. Take them with a color of your choice and you will uncover some hidden truths or take the...
