November Snow.

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
a young man waits for fellow workers but they do not show just the snow.

Submitted: July 14, 2011

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Submitted: July 14, 2011

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\"\"

November 65,
all day waiting

on the building site,
but no one showed

and then came
the snow, white,

cold, drifting
into your eyes,

on your clothes,
over your boots,

and still
no one came,

and so you thought,
fuck it, I’ll go back home,

on the train,
 and saw

through the carriage window
still the heavy snow.


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