|picture source: https://www.pinterest.com/pin/375909900124228469/|
Leaves litter the kitchen floor,
blown in by a wind that’s turned cold
and determined in expressing its control.
Bronze goosebumps are visible on my skin,
my bare limbs feel exposed, naked, to the icy fingers that brush, then grab and pull me their chosen direction.
Leaves snag in my hair that is blowing
with the wind, the cold, the wet, the darkness, that I need.
... sure a lot of cold and goose bumps and snow suits and skiing and snow boarding and sittin by da fire place 2 warm up and then do it all over again ... physically and psychologically as well ... ya ... blogger is making it difficult to reach out to other than blogger account users ... I lost a lot of wordpress friends ... don't know whether I will still publish my poems with blogger ... time will tell ... U doin alright, Shadow? Love, cat.ReplyDelete
In a literal sense, that individual might need some cold medicine after that.
Your works are always very vivid.
It must be getting hot down there. (Hot weather inspires poetry about cold experiences?)ReplyDelete
hello shadow its dennis the vizsla dog hay but sinse it is a kitchen their must be sum scraps or crumbs under the leevs rite??? if so kan i hav them??? ok byeReplyDelete