Blue January
sky, crisp air nips with whipping
wind. My face is cold
Seconds slip past and I feel
this new year sliding away.
Liked this poem? Try Backyard or Rain Pours.
Writer in San Francisco, CA
Blue January
sky, crisp air nips with whipping
wind. My face is cold
Seconds slip past and I feel
this new year sliding away.
Liked this poem? Try Backyard or Rain Pours.