by Patrice Clarkson | May 14, 2019 | My Musings, Poetry
Will shorts ever be an option? Cold winds blow frozen Ice it seems encloses No bright, growing spring No warm summer sun. Harsh, angry weather Keeping winter coats on In what was suppose to be spring. No respite Birds shivering Tulips freezing Babies crying No, Shorts...
by Patrice Clarkson | Apr 8, 2014 | My Musings, Poetry
Drifting slowly down The last of winter softly hits the ground Melted in an instant, turning to a rain Flowing quickly, pouring down the drain Now just melancholy remembrances Of a winter almost gone. Spring emerges, quickly coming on Banks of snow melting, feeding...
