Wintergloves
Winter gloves on
paling summers gone
and you echo.........along
distress on the walls
cuz memories are loud
while they echo..........
as the cold runs through
the holes you've made
Wind's tickling your nose
as you reach for those
who echoes.....along
poems for drifters
stacking solid ground
as she echoes......
till the tail of the storm
I will lay in snow till I’m the dawn
Writer/s: COMEAU FRANCESCA MARIE, LACHAPELLE DAVID
