As little sense as there was,
I miss the days when you were here,
As little as it worked,
I always felt alive when you were near
YOU ARE READING
Wistful Winter
Poetry1st collection of what I'm calling "Seasons Project" I was going to try to write enough poems to post 1 a day, for a year. I only managed to do a fourth of that before catching another case of long-term writer's block. I have decided that it is bett...
Deviant
As little sense as there was,
I miss the days when you were here,
As little as it worked,
I always felt alive when you were near
