Grey skies crouched.
Your prompt is BLEAK.
Drifts against the door
Howling steals in on the wind
The ice has our hearts
And creeping…
Grey skies crouched.
Your prompt is BLEAK.
Drifts against the door
Howling steals in on the wind
The ice has our hearts
And creeping…
Solstice dawn breaks bleak
With mist that seeps into bones
Long night’s harbinger
Bleak and desolate
Like the prospects of the world
Life of poverty