the hailstorm

A shower of icicles fall from the sky, they’re like whips upon the skin

A hailstorm has approached the land all buildings we rush in

Nature is confused today; she doesn’t know what she wants

We just have to accept her temper and hide within a sconce      

Leave a comment

Filed under poetry

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.