Winter is coming
It smells like winter is coming.
Golden bands pressed against brick buildings,
Use no discretion now targeting trees.
They are plump-full of summer sun.
Satisfied and prepared,
Until snow threatens their conviction.
It feels like winter is coming.
Cars in and out of each golden strip,
Windows up and down, they're
Moving mouths shuffling through shadows.
Just zipped closed by the jackets they bear,
But sometimes not zipped closed at all.
Bicycle wheels, books in-tow with no belt,
Dethroning his squeaky chariot, destined for the door.
Now ready to enter his realm is reading,
A sanctuary so elusive, yet quiet enough to hear
Winter is coming.
Golden bands pressed against brick buildings,
Use no discretion now targeting trees.
They are plump-full of summer sun.
Satisfied and prepared,
Until snow threatens their conviction.
It feels like winter is coming.
Cars in and out of each golden strip,
Windows up and down, they're
Moving mouths shuffling through shadows.
Just zipped closed by the jackets they bear,
But sometimes not zipped closed at all.
Bicycle wheels, books in-tow with no belt,
Dethroning his squeaky chariot, destined for the door.
Now ready to enter his realm is reading,
A sanctuary so elusive, yet quiet enough to hear
Winter is coming.