Poetry and prose for contests. The occasional "slider" poem. |
| Winter can suck it, the wind and cold have done me in, its claws enfold and I, a frigid prisoner of its grip Can only dream of green and gold. For camping and flip flops I am sold. Summer and tank tops will never get old. Then face-first on black ice I slip-- Winter can suck it. The summer clothes I press and fold just waiting for the day I'm told spring has returned from its trip and January was only a blip but for now, I'm freaking cold-- Winter can suck it. Form Info ▶︎ Order my new book on Kindle!
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