Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Aug 15
I miss the sound of snow crunching under my brown boots,
walking back to her, my friendβ€”
Friends; people who, for goodness,
We beat and live and cheer each other,
cheer in the midst of our shattering, the fall-down,
and the riseβ€”

and I was walking back to her,
my dearest,
dearest friend.
Aug 15, 2019
littlebrush
Written by
littlebrush
  132
   Fawn, Darrell Landstrom and Khoi-San
Please log in to view and add comments on poems