Too chilly, too much wind and
not enough light.
The fall bees are out like leaves
and there many among the trees.
The birds cry, the deer run.
Day breaks, seasons change,
people walk around.
There's much strangeness in the
air, strangeness is my fault.
We know one another, we know
each other.
We know how the cold can be.
In a couple of months the year
will end.
No comments:
Post a Comment