First Frost
First evening's frost,
...a gentle touch-
to kiss the glass,
enrobing blanket 'pon the out,
neither heating, nor shielding-
...those unlucky few-
who chance upon it's love-
in the cruel chill of fortnight.
- I posted this poem but I am not sure about it. Is it fine as is, or can it be improved on?
Copyright © Michael Benkhen | Year Posted 2010
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