Poetry
The Gray
I walked along the road,
As I often do during the day,
Now the road is wet,
The leaves are piling along the street.
Winter’s coming,
I think to myself,
You can feel it in the air,
The cold bite,
I walked along the road,
As I often do during the day,
Now the road is wet,
The leaves are piling along the street.
Winter’s coming,
I think to myself,
You can feel it in the air,
The cold bite,
Poetry by Matthew Donnellon