Each a tiny myth
Ashes fall as fire snowflakes
Summer’s scent gone cold
A cold open
This November unrehearsed
The script falls short
Each a tiny myth
Ashes fall as fire snowflakes
Summer’s scent gone cold
A cold open
This November unrehearsed
The script falls short
the fires start to die,
with the smoke drifting about,
a cold day’s coming
LikeLiked by 2 people
Great depiction. Loved it.
LikeLike
“Summer’s scent gone cold” I like that.
LikeLike
Thanks for taking the time to comment.
LikeLike