When the Breath Turns

We hear the world as it turns cold.

πŸ‚β„οΈπŸβ„οΈπŸ‚β„οΈπŸ‚β„οΈπŸβ„οΈπŸ‚β„οΈπŸ‚β„οΈπŸβ„οΈπŸ‚β„οΈ

Soiled roots, kissed by golden hue.

Leaves cling to iron bars, their recall heavy.

Warm air turns, its cool breath gracing my fingertips.

Asphalt steam rises, white beneath faint sun’s glow.

A crow caws β€” the cool air’s rattle.

πŸ‚β„οΈπŸβ„οΈπŸ‚β„οΈπŸ‚β„οΈπŸβ„οΈπŸ‚β„οΈπŸ‚β„οΈπŸβ„οΈπŸ‚β„οΈ

The leaves whisper, now a guttural rustle.

The crow’s caw, a sharp screech in the ear.

Chimneys clear their throats with fiery puff.

Frost builds on wooden eaves.

πŸ‚β„οΈπŸβ„οΈπŸ‚β„οΈπŸ‚β„οΈπŸβ„οΈπŸ‚β„οΈπŸ‚β„οΈπŸβ„οΈπŸ‚β„οΈ

Woodsmoke razes the throat.

Wisps of warm, frost-tinged breath fill the air.

Pine scent turns to rust β€” the Earth’s belt tightens.

Skin prickles beneath old warmth’s shun.

πŸ‚β„οΈπŸβ„οΈπŸ‚β„οΈπŸ‚β„οΈπŸβ„οΈπŸ‚β„οΈπŸ‚β„οΈπŸβ„οΈπŸ‚β„οΈ

Glass panes fog; my form shows β€” then goes.

A new light berates the cooling twilight.

Crumbling crackle under boots β€” it comes,

And the Earth welcomes it with pause.

We hear the world as it turns cold.

πŸ‚β„οΈπŸβ„οΈπŸ‚β„οΈπŸ‚β„οΈπŸβ„οΈπŸ‚β„οΈπŸ‚β„οΈπŸβ„οΈπŸ‚β„οΈ

Soiled roots, kissed by golden hue.

Leaves cling to iron bars, their recall heavy.

Warm air turns, its cool breath gracing my fingertips.

Asphalt steam rises, white beneath faint sun’s glow.

A crow caws β€” the cool air’s rattle.

πŸ‚β„οΈπŸβ„οΈπŸ‚β„οΈπŸ‚β„οΈπŸβ„οΈπŸ‚β„οΈπŸ‚β„οΈπŸβ„οΈπŸ‚β„οΈ

The leaves whisper, now a guttural rustle.

The crow’s caw, a sharp screech in the ear.

Chimneys clear their throats with fiery puff.

Frost builds on wooden eaves.

πŸ‚β„οΈπŸβ„οΈπŸ‚β„οΈπŸ‚β„οΈπŸβ„οΈπŸ‚β„οΈπŸ‚β„οΈπŸβ„οΈπŸ‚β„οΈ

Woodsmoke razes the throat.

Wisps of warm, frost-tinged breath fill the air.

Pine scent turns to rust β€” the Earth’s belt tightens.

Skin prickles beneath old warmth’s shun.

πŸ‚β„οΈπŸβ„οΈπŸ‚β„οΈπŸ‚β„οΈπŸβ„οΈπŸ‚β„οΈπŸ‚β„οΈπŸβ„οΈπŸ‚β„οΈ

Glass panes fog; my form shows β€” then goes.

A new dawn berates the cooling twilight.

Crumbling crackle under boots β€” it comes,

And the Earth welcomes it with pause.

πŸ‚β„οΈπŸβ„οΈπŸ‚β„οΈπŸ‚β„οΈπŸβ„οΈπŸ‚β„οΈπŸ‚β„οΈπŸβ„οΈπŸ‚β„οΈ

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Please find a book of my horror microfiction, Echoes in the Dark, free for download here.

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