Hard sun 
Cuts rough 
Shadow, 
Sharpens 
The sorrow 
Of summer 
Strangled 
Rose, trees 
Bend in 
Awkward 
Angles, 
Reach in 
Supplication 
Toward 
November’s 
Throne, 
The held 
Breath, 
The purgatory 
Before letting 
Go

#Poetry