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Cold April Days

by David Lindsay

He thinks the sun is rude
for blaring into his day;
She is simply happier
when couched in her mumbles of grey
Β 
Curtains drawn, blinds down
They have their blinkers on
They leave the paths untrodden
While the world chokes out a song
Β 
Their confinement is not a prison though
It's a choice that they embrace
They know the Earth keeps turning
At its' baffling, blurring pace
Β 
...

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Thursday 28th April 2016 11:17 pm

April   biscuits   hibernation

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