[i don't know what's up with me. i haven't written something substantial in a very long time, but i don't want this blog to be forgotten, so here is a little something that i wrote yesterday]
On a Cold Night
Sometimes
On a cold night
A fire lights up
and I cannot help
but stare into it;
be consumed by it
And wait for Morning to come
This poem is actually part of a bigger plan: The idea is to write a book and have each chapter start off with a poem written by a character. The chapter will then reflect that poem. I'm not sure if it'll be one person writing all the poems, or different people. I'm unsure of the length and the plot. Very loose details right now.
The sheep, the monkey, the dog, and the pig, each leaders in their own right, met at a crossroads in the woods.
The sheep pranced forth, its head held high, looking down upon the others.
The monkey, ever playful, jumped onto the sheep's back, dirtying the otherwise white wool.
The dog howled and jumped into the fray, never one to stay out of a good fight.
And the pig passed by knowing it had dinner waiting for him.
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