48 minutes ago
The grey sky hangs like a flannelette sheet,
I think my Nan has tucked it there.
Frayed with yellow light, the centre traps
the muggy air.
The sea will wet the hems, anxious
that we might catch chill
in December, as we slept
she snuck in with the moon.
I think my Nan has tucked it there.
Frayed with yellow light, the centre traps
the muggy air.
The sea will wet the hems, anxious
that we might catch chill
in December, as we slept
she snuck in with the moon.