Walking through the city centre
the sun has almost set.
There’s a sharp chill in the air.
Birds screaming “socialite!”
Shouting coarse through their tiny
delicate throats.
Marking the end
of the day.
There’s nothing they can do.
Marking the start
of winter.
There’s nothing they can do.
Misplaced and nostalgic in crispy air.
I heard summers ghost in their cries.
I felt Autumn **** up against the **** of winter.
Still present.
Her body intertwined
in a dying pile of leaves.
She looked better in golden light.
But perhaps she feels more comfortable
wrapped
in the fraying grey coat he has to offer.
May 30, 2015
May 30, 2015 at 4:55 AM UTC
Walking through the city centre
the sun has almost set.
There’s a sharp chill in the air.
Birds screaming “socialite!”
Shouting coarse through their tiny
delicate throats.
Marking the end
of the day.
There’s nothing they can do.
Marking the start
of winter.
There’s nothing they can do.
Misplaced and nostalgic in crispy air.
I heard summers ghost in their cries.
I felt Autumn **** up against the **** of winter.
Still present.
Her body intertwined
in a dying pile of leaves.
She looked better in golden light.
But perhaps she feels more comfortable
wrapped
in the fraying grey coat he has to offer.
Altered, April '14
Request permission to use this poem