
Cocooned are the minutes.
Dark.
Changing.
Dry, the hours.
Cracked.
Flaking.
Crawl, time, crawl.
We are hiding.
And this is my tired song of the pandemic… as tired, I fear, as my attempts at poetry.
Until tomorrow…
Chloe
Cocooned are the minutes.
Dark.
Changing.
Dry, the hours.
Cracked.
Flaking.
Crawl, time, crawl.
We are hiding.
And this is my tired song of the pandemic… as tired, I fear, as my attempts at poetry.
Until tomorrow…
Chloe