In the winter
We follow pawprints
Through the forest,
through the thick of things.
You; convinced we are onto something.
We pass a flask with our
Heavy mittened hands and
Just between You and me; i
Don’t think it was the dogman. i don’t
Think
We will ever find anything out here.
Nov 19, 2013
Nov 19, 2013 at 2:31 PM UTC
In the winter
We follow pawprints
Through the forest,
through the thick of things.
You; convinced we are onto something.
We pass a flask with our
Heavy mittened hands and
Just between You and me; i
Don’t think it was the dogman. i don’t
Think
We will ever find anything out here.
Request permission to use this poem