A blue glass crust,
Surrounded by trees,
Is how the lake looks
When cold makes it freeze.
Dew on the leaves,
Now has turned in pearls.
Blows the breeze,
That chills the tendril curls.
Everything is icy blue,
Saving all those trees
that have turned pale from
chill wind that makes them freeze.
YOU ARE READING
Excerpts from an old diary
PoetryFeel free to vote and comment if you enjoy reading! (Previously known as "Poetry On Fingertips") •2nd Position in The Crown Awards 2020 •#1 in #poetryislife -28/June/2020 •#1 in #poetrylovers -26/Feb/2019 And plz don't copy my book, Truyen.
