its often i hear
the whisper
cold it brushes
bruises
my sinking
skin
escapes
scrapes
the very being
that gave it wing
“it is the weather”
i whisper
to my soul to hear
“its not you dear”
Advertisement
translucent reflections
its often i hear
the whisper
cold it brushes
bruises
my sinking
skin
escapes
scrapes
the very being
that gave it wing
“it is the weather”
i whisper
to my soul to hear
“its not you dear”
it IS the weather! It’s freezing!!