in the snow I walk.
blue lances fall around me
like the darning needles
my mother would use to sew
the tears in my white bedsheets;
a yellow song sweeps in; an organ;
the black tux cat walks on the tile,
leaving behind it sporadic pairs
of every-other-tracks.
the wind is cold and it pries open my eyes
and like my brother he
flicks wet salt in.
YOU ARE READING
These Hazy Days
PoesiaA collection of poetry for the summer and autumn days. cover by me, on canva.com all rights reserved. ...
