The insects are starting to buzz and glow,
summer begins it's end now.
God, I am drawn
to those songs,
to those prophets of the end,
voices of autumn’s hum.
The end is only a blanket of frost...
a winter sun.
It’s way too cold to have to squint
yet never as cold as it was in memory,
the planet has a fever.
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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Great write, you have a very unique style of writing.
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Hm... You have a very blunt way of putting things. Leaving a lot to the imagination, but also really putting the image in the head. I love the deep ideas in this piece.
Great job
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