Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Dec 2015
The burning fox sits on the wall
And the mist clings to your kisses —

The skies bloom and explode into the black
As we watch Icarus fall

We ferociously ache for somewhere warmer
Orange trees drop their guns and dive for cover

You taste like hot squash —
But your brother tastes hotter.
Jemima Jane Bowen
Written by
Jemima Jane Bowen
395
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems