Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Aug 2022
there's a chill
in the air
its cold
mid july
except inside
where heaters glow
by those who fear
frost's bite
gather round
this quiet town
humble
but cold
your hands will reach
but not quite reach
the edge on which
we all fall down
Jack Jenkins
Written by
Jack Jenkins  28/M/Washington State
(28/M/Washington State)   
136
   laura and Cold-Bones
Please log in to view and add comments on poems