Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Nov 2011
If I were to imagine what a drink feels like
it would be the rain in Humboldt County.
A blanket of cold falling upon me,
eventually making its way to my ears
never letting up, my vision is fog.

Hazy, unrelenting
until the glass becomes a mug
of hot cider, releasing me from the
reality of a stone-cold winter.
M E Sills
Written by
M E Sills
729
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems