Will Vigar

a writer of sorts

Dynevor Road (5)

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The Attic Room

 

Winds howl down

the chimney flue

An autumn storm

To keep me awake.

 

The frantic fluttering

of doomed birds stirring

Soot and smuts into

the half blocked grate.

 

Poe shadows graze

The window inviting

the grey boy

into my room.

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This entry was posted on March 12, 2016 by in Poem, poem of the day, Poetry, Will Vigar and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , .

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