The grasshopper hated winter. She could feel it approaching, with its gusts of cold air that left her continuously shivering, and knew there was nothing she could do about it.
The few insects she'd
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Flowing over the aged jagged rocks
It has formed over the years.
The rusty gutter succumbs,
Freedom.
The water gushes from this escape route.
I sit here in the quiet
Listening to the aquatic drama;
The stillness of the dark
Against the rush of water;
I embrace it.
But then the dog snores.
I listen for your breath.
Not out of concern
But to still feel we have a connection
Of some sort.
Desperation on my part.
I sit here in the quiet.
Happy in the darkness;
I know I can breathe
Without you.