Two Wheels have
gone so far
roads and broken paths
between old homes
rough and sad
wet ground spins up
freezing white blurs the sky
greyness tones
air drops down
my mistress' voice is heard
as dead wooden fingers prick at me in my sweater
her pale face forms from winters white
home is up the hill
and a light's on
i'll feel better when i get there
amazing
theDaysWereGolden 1 year ago