A brief winter night

​In the end there was
​no space for correction.
​No space for
​the wayside grass.
​Just survival.
And ​when the burning
coals ceased their glow.
The breath returned.
A life on the streets,
not one tapped out online.
Fanned with the heart
and with a poets soul.
This is how to gain
a life of sight…..
and live to tell the tale.


Leave a Reply

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

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com 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