skies fold,
pinched like a bedsheet
in the softest of greys -
a morning sickness
that's weightless;
how the day lifts
and the sheets come away,
shedding like plaster
for light that's early, peach.
-
Author:
R. R. Bluer (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: August 8th, 2022 10:25
- Comment from author about the poem: capturing a moment while the coffee brewed
- Category: Nature
- Views: 21
Offline)
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