Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Aug 2014
Pretty soon the conkers would be falling, she could already see their
plump, cherubim bodies
spiked and dangling
like baubles,
or those underwater bombs,
from the oak leaves,
hanging limp.
Liz
Written by
Liz  London
(London)   
Please log in to view and add comments on poems