Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Apr 2017
All the sky collapsed upon
The dashing to the shops
And ushering kids into cars
"Quick, come on, in from the cold"
And with faces pressed tight
Against streaky glass
They watch the clouds crumble
Into a thousand tiny cannonballs
Hit after hit after hit
And then white noise
Made of ice.
Parsavagely Kompenere
Written by
Parsavagely Kompenere  19/F/Yorkshire
(19/F/Yorkshire)   
Please log in to view and add comments on poems