Crisp air collides with smoke
a fire takes hold, growing into rage
into doom, approaching winter
will ice the burn.
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-Alina
Writer in San Francisco, CA

Slid into heaven
Thanks to raven wings and bones
It is a dark room
Scattering of beads, thunder
I wake in the morn
poem written in Tanka form
Crisp air collides with smoke
a fire takes hold, growing into rage
into doom, approaching winter
will ice the burn.
Thank you for reading! Please follow or subscribe for more!
Want more? Check out my Patreon!
-Alina