Migration

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
Winter related

Submitted: December 02, 2015

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Submitted: December 02, 2015

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She felt a breeze, smooth at first, graze the side of her face
and she housed her head into her hood, stuffed her hands into her pockets
and continued. 
Her hair found air from the side of the thick, navy coat,
and trailed after the wind like a mother waving a handkerchief on a train platform.
At her feet were puddles the shape of her eyes, winking back at her with every
step she took, further and further away. Leaves were trapped by gravity
to the sodden, concrete floor, waving as if for help.

Above her, as she looked into the milk-coloured sky,
clouds gathered as the birds came. 
There were only a few at first, but then swarms of ash stippled the 
landscape over the breast of the countryside. It was migrating season,
for the both of them.


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