Dark Poetry

Murky View

Snow slush on the front pane

The wipers hardly disperse it

Like dark drapes it sticks 

 

So I barely look out

Of my soul's window 

'Cause murky thoughts obscure the view

 

Sadness wants to sag down

Heavy and dismal

Like the November sky 

 

 

Inga Veit, Publizistin M.A. & Coach  |  ingaveit@web.de