Poetry from Brianna Dawn.

Sky, of Gray

she felt the chill of the cold
rushing down tree spines –
pushing down her sleeves, she tugged at her coat
to keep her neck warm, writing down lines
of poetry between the clouds, then the rain
recited them aloud until they were worn out,
crowding together, sleeping on top of
umbrellas and streets, the
windshields wiping them away so that
people could see

written by Tiny Fawns for daily prompt: gray 

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