Mornin’ soup

The air was frigid

Like soup left on the table

The wind blew in forceful gusts

As if blind the to long dead heat

 The night was a hungry child

The cold broth could not satiate

 So on the tantrum kept

Until the dark was spent

On a heaving sigh of morning light

© Devina S.

Leave a comment

Filed under My Poetry, Writing

Talk to me

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s