Indigo Illusions

infinite inks, iguana’s inspire
innate impulses, instincts inborn
imprints indigo, indigo illusions

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Pining for summer

So, winter has me in its grip
and won’t let go right now
Her cold and icy fingers
spider-like across my brow
Shivering, I try to smile
and brave the worst of it
But winter’s not what I’m about
and never seems to fit

The winter bully

Breath escapes in tiny clouds
a whisper to the chill
as icy iron fingers grab
and hassle me at will
I’m minding my own business
A summer’s child adrift
Lost in this cold wilderness
and feeling somewhat miffed

November Mnemonic: Acrostic Poem

 

Now
Overtly chill
Vacant
Echoes
Move
Briskly across the
Ephemeral
Remains of an ever