PoemsBrowse PoemsSlamsFresh DropEchoes
LearnWriting TipsPoetry TermsPoets & ArtistsBooksFor Teachers
ExplorePoetry GenomePoem MapEchoesTake ActionGroups
AboutWrite a PoemDonateSign UpLog In

Cold Air


To think that the morning brings ice. Ice, ice, ice.

This coldness fills the air, with rosy cheeks and dragon breath

The leaves have fallen and so has the innocence, the 

Innocence to think that what is denied is truly thing the one thing the 

heart desires.

Big coats, gloves or mittens, and hats cannot warm the

True cold; the cold that burns inside, that only a pure kiss

can tame. Only.

The days are shorter and time shortens as well, to think

that the flowers will bloom again; opening a new chapter...

but until then,

It's cold.

©All Rights Reserved

Something wrong with this poem?

Share

Replies are closed for this poem.

Your Poem's Voice

See what makes your poem unique — its voice, energy, themes, and the literary traditions it draws from.

Comments (0)

No comments yet. Be the first to share your thoughts.

Log in to leave a comment.