pompoms
Temperature at the End
The end of a season
burns my fingers
warming them close to ashes.
Are the days more than
cardboard and rain.
I reach for the next
and fall headlong
into its drizzle.
ap 6, 2010
No comments:
Post a Comment
Newer Post
Older Post
Home
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment