Brat Farrar (bratfarrar) wrote,
Brat Farrar
bratfarrar

poem by me: winter morning (with abused punctuation)

a few half-hearted icicles still,
the slowly-disappearing snow in the backyard,
a solitary robin on a desolate branch;

above, the sky stretches like faded blue silk: old, and empty of any warmth.
Tags: poetry
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