Not a soul treads frosted tarmac, Deserted, hollow, wet, Laced with an ivory chill. Decayed metal against A murky stillness, Drained and muted, Yet catching whispers of the mist From between the trees left Standing shivering in the darkling sky.
catering for the reader
Not a soul treads frosted tarmac, Deserted, hollow, wet, Laced with an ivory chill. Decayed metal against A murky stillness, Drained and muted, Yet catching whispers of the mist From between the trees left Standing shivering in the darkling sky.