
Crisp, golden leaves drink
in sunlight and break underfoot
into pieces like ripped
bits of paper dried with ink.
Thank you for reading! Please follow or subscribe to read more poems.
-Alina
Writer in San Francisco, CA

I saw her at the
Crossroads, black dog at her heel
A torch in her hand
Another drink, a day gone
Torch burning in the darkness

Crisp, golden leaves drink
in sunlight and break underfoot
into pieces like ripped
bits of paper dried with ink.
Thank you for reading! Please follow or subscribe to read more poems.
-Alina