by Elexa Rose
Greens and burnt oranges
Are counting the gasps
Of air we take
In this cold, bitter hour.
Cracks from all the trees
And broken branches
Crisp and crunch
Beneath our steps.
Your pace is slowing
Looking out to sea
Though we’re far, so far
From the comfort of the harbour.
The crackle of the radio
Buzzes out.
Your eyes are deft and slight
In the diminishing light.
The end of the road
Is in sight, finally.
We’re all concentrating on it,
Even these dying trees.
Even these dying trees
Can feel the tension
Can feel my thoughts
And you look at me like fresh meat.

One Response

  1. Very descriptive, I enjoyed it.

Leave a Reply

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

WordPress.com Logo

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

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ 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

%d bloggers like this: