Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jul 2013
Prefer the heat
To the cold
Because its too close
To how it felt around you
Under
Crushed ice and thunder.
Stand above lasers.
Will they burn off traces
Of my soul?
Will they help this roll
Off my tongue a little smoother?

Prefer the heat.
Grab some lemonade and take a seat.
Ann Beaver
Written by
Ann Beaver
701
   Timothy
Please log in to view and add comments on poems