From in the shadows
they whisper,
grunt, and huff
waiting for me to drop my guard.
They’ll wait for the last bloomed rose.
Until the last snowfall of winter.
But after all and sure enough,
no one would think to look for you under the backyard.
Jan 24, 2019
Jan 24, 2019 at 8:45 AM UTC
From in the shadows
they whisper,
grunt, and huff
waiting for me to drop my guard.
They’ll wait for the last bloomed rose.
Until the last snowfall of winter.
But after all and sure enough,
no one would think to look for you under the backyard.
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