She soaked her raincoat
Through again, her boots are
Full of water,
But tomorrow I will wake and her hair
Will still smell of pine.
Her crooked fingers caught a chill,
For all their heat fled
To her face
When they entangled themselves
In mine.
Apr 20, 2016
Apr 20, 2016 at 9:37 PM UTC
She soaked her raincoat
Through again, her boots are
Full of water,
But tomorrow I will wake and her hair
Will still smell of pine.
Her crooked fingers caught a chill,
For all their heat fled
To her face
When they entangled themselves
In mine.
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