A Breeze Read Count : 3

Category : Poems

Sub Category : N/A
He
Sitting on a log,
The fog that drifts, slowly as the moon,
Whispers of owels; ruffles of branches 
Crimson;orange and yellow;
Following a steady beat,
Overhang, hulting what little light,
A cold crisp in the air,
Biteing at his ears,
The fog stopped.
Lady Autumn, in a outfit of warmth,
Carrying a cold, dence air
Her lips red as blood,
Spoke in his ear; a soft voice, 
"A breeze; it comes my darling.~"
And vanished, into a violent fog.




Comments

  • Maurice  Beres

    Maurice Beres

    Lovely writing and artworks 🦋🦋🦋

    Aug 08, 2019

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