Ok, as per one of my goals recently, I’ve been trying to write something every day. So far I’ve produced a smattering of work, none of which is fantastic, but I figure I might as well post it and get it out there.

Cold Air

The morning air brushes past my face–
but it refuses to move on.
It stings as it begins to move through my
nose and mouth, past my tongue.
I exhale.
I move on.

Strong

Where goes the strong one?
Into eternity I would guess.
Blown back again, not so missed.
Maybe forgotten. One day remembered.
Walk away; the night will remember.