dark (Remove filter)
Cold at the Pump
Cold at the pump, I rub my hands together,
But, for a moment, there’s nothing there,
And I search for the pockets of my coat,
My breath faces its very death and fades,
And somewhere in the air, I leave it there,
And notice my time is ticking away,
The cold gets in close and I feel the chill,
When I realize I’m getting mugged by it,
And shiver and shudder at the thought of it,
When all...
Sunday 15th February 2015 9:49 am
Recent Comments
Dewi Runtuwene on Fades
6 hours ago
Red Brick Keshner on a dance between skies
7 hours ago
Hélène on a dance between skies
15 hours ago
Tom Doolan on Wishes Come True
1 day ago
Yanma Hidayah on “I Don’t Believe in My Wings”
1 day ago
Stephen Gospage on Stopping the Cuts
1 day ago
Stephen Gospage on According to the poet
1 day ago
Tom Doolan on Wishes Come True
1 day ago
David RL Moore on The nutritional value of a bullet
1 day ago
David RL Moore on According to the poet
1 day ago