The clouds cover the mountain.
The cold bites me
under my skin.
The brisk air fills my head
freezes my brain
just for a second.
The clouds, wispy clouds, cover the mountain
like a blanket
tucking in a tired child.
I can't see the top
or where I'm going.
The clouds cover the mountain.
They hush the world.
I am alone
with the cars driving by
with the joggers trotting along
with the dog walkers.
The clouds cover the mountain
and even though I can't see
I know you're out there,
somewhere,
thinking of me.
1 comment:
I love when unrhymed verse is punctuated at the finish with a rhyme. Shakespeare does this sometimes, ending a scene with a rhyming couplet, to show that it was important. You're ABBA pattern brought the poem to a snappy finish. Love it.
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