Spruce lining slopes, straight-lace the supple snow
Pine fresh in a scent, simulated by science's sylvanshine
Refreshed rooms the outdoors feel, an artifice we know
Urbanite veneer we weary grow - seeking scenes sublime
Cursive greens script sheets of white
Ever-green our senses yearn to write
YOU ARE READING
𝓟oems 𝓟rismatic
Poetry''sketches that shape-shift the angle and the curve'' (line from the poem 'Contrast) Recent/new poems tend to be at the beginning of the book.
