 |
| Checkered |
The wind gasps and shutters
With cold.
Noses turn pink and eyebrows freeze.
A cloud plays tag with us,
Enveloping us in floating water.
Causing Mr. Samunge's chin hairs,
To grow icicles that glint in the the grey.
All around us yells and calls echo,
From others floating, hidden in the fog.
Sam and Sandy pretend that it's the cloud children.
Playing.
Ropes creak and burners swoosh.
Fabric shuffles and wicker baskets crackle.
The breeze tugs at my red scarf,
Floating away through the mist.
With cold.
Noses turn pink and eyebrows freeze.
A cloud plays tag with us,
Enveloping us in floating water.
Causing Mr. Samunge's chin hairs,
To grow icicles that glint in the the grey.
All around us yells and calls echo,
From others floating, hidden in the fog.
Sam and Sandy pretend that it's the cloud children.
Playing.
Ropes creak and burners swoosh.
Fabric shuffles and wicker baskets crackle.
The breeze tugs at my red scarf,
Floating away through the mist.
Ok See ya!:M isty...
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