Promises
Seasons change and the winter comes,
I feel the cold air fill up my lungs.
The early darkness; the brightness of morning,
Wheels in my head are slowly turning.
There's so much beauty in the simple sorrow,
of never knowing if we'll reach tomorrow.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
