
The sun beats down
on the golden hills of summer
the air is crisp and waiting
for the cold brush of fall.
Thank you for reading! Please follow or subscribe to read more poems!
-Alina
Writer in San Francisco, CA

She claws her way out
of hell, Cerberus howling
breeze warms frigid air
Young buds stretch for blossoming
birds fluttering in the trees

The sun beats down
on the golden hills of summer
the air is crisp and waiting
for the cold brush of fall.
Thank you for reading! Please follow or subscribe to read more poems!
-Alina