On that last day
At minus eight degrees
With the sunrise
Whipped with black clouds,
A threatening grey blanket
And blue skies peeping,
It was like most
Last days,
You know the mixture,
Pain, sadness,
Apprehension,
Anticipation
Peeking.
Stephen Nesbitt ©
From “Dockside” www.StrangersAndPoetry.com
7:56 AM December 31, 2014