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Mar 2021
down by the hollow,
wintry twigs await
their april leaves
but for now,
scrape my ankles
as i brush by,
looking up, around,
anywhere for new airs.
men cycle past me
down the only path,
pumping their legs,
"on your right"
yes, they've found them.
my cycle renews.
how shall i fill it?
here, in this patch
that brings such melancholy
peace? or in my home,
my self,
patch be ******.
Brittany Chalmers
Written by
Brittany Chalmers  23/F
   Imran Islam
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