*IT'S COLD OUTSIDE*

Air tense, mouth opens, Carbon Dioxide
Oozed out, my thoughts gasp
Ripples from raindrops on the window outside
Flutter from my gentle clasp

My mind reaches out to the morrow
Far as my hand could go
Tears drop on my iambic notes
From the burnt regina of a hurt soul

And i said "This is not poetry"
Its a frickling fire lit to keep me warm
For everytime i stare at the window
The quicker this muse froze

—Its cold,real cold outside.

*GEORGE O. VICTOR*
*THE GHOSTWRITER👻*
*©2018*