Encased within winter,
between the green hills
and
the blanket grey sky
you hear a faint whisper.
You hear a whisper
from spring,
a spring
cool
against
the skin.
Poetry | Stories | Photography
Encased within winter,
between the green hills
and
the blanket grey sky
you hear a faint whisper.
You hear a whisper
from spring,
a spring
cool
against
the skin.