Over the crest of the hill
A gale blows me onwards
Wraps its wisps about me
As if the wind is a cloth.
Down the path it tugs me
And meekly I consent
Concave in confidence
I stumble in my decent.
The chalk beneath me crumbles
Rough and skeletally pale
But it still supports me
Willing me down the hill.
The rain a cage around me
Obscuring my hearing and sight
I say goodbye to my close star
As it gently succumbs to the night.
YOU ARE READING
31 Days Of Imagination (Poetry)
PoetryI set myself a challenge for this month to write a new thing every day. This is the outcome, I hope you like it. I will be adding stuff as I go along. NOTE- PLEASE DON'T JUST READ THE FIRST POEM IN THIS SERIES, MAYBE CHOOSE ONE AT RANDOM! :)
