gray clouds moving in the February morning
like the breast of a dove mottled with
gnarled branches that appear to
wait for the day to day, or water to boil
electric kettles not working
dancing barefoot on an icy floor
and the dog sniffing breakfast
my cold fingers on the stove top switches
an enormous kettle of cold water finally
rustling about into a steaming cup of tea
Genre
Comments
Same here. I like dove-grey
Same here. I like dove-grey mornings...
I have hated the words and I have loved them, and I hope I have made them right. --The Book Thief
Loved all of your word
Loved all of your word choices, they gave very clear images.
"You were not meant to fit into a shallow box built by someone else." -J. Raymond