Found Poetry 549

1/24/21

the mob of winter is coming
hear their steps falling
circling the house
bunched up against the windows
sitting in chairs on the porch

you gear up, ready for war
a few break in as you open the door
you easily turn these enemies
into puddles on the floor
and go outside to play some more

This poem was created from Sylvia Plath's collected works. Click here to get a book of Plath's poems.

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