Morning

Stepping out to crisp, dry air,

Sterile and scentless, it grabs my breath.

Hoar frost hanging from each leaf and corner,

Strokes my face and chills my soul.

The langour of sleep is wiped away.

Ghosts of night time fold in silvered flakes.

Envigoured, I go vigorous to work.



◄ Monica Jean

Mum ►

Comments

No comments posted yet.

If you wish to post a comment you must login.

This site uses only functional cookies that are essential to the operation of the site. We do not use cookies related to advertising or tracking. By continuing to browse, you are agreeing to our use of cookies.

Find out more Hide this message