April
It’s April and the autumn rain patters down for days long, the Magalies Mountains are covered by grey-black clouds and later there are summer days where the sun still hangs white-hot and I long, want the summer to last forever but the years are already leaving their marks on my face, are drawing through my hair and like some of the trees in a winter I will also turn skeleton, become stripped from my better days and then at a time will be part of the cold heart Sign in to see full entry.