Darts
The bitter cold wind crawls like
A creepy insect,
Under my clothes to a bare skin.
The thick woollen jacket is zipped
Up to the chin,
I'm not differed from a black sheep.
The clumsy gloves are on.
All the lights is bright and the
Door is half-open.
I inhale the strong, invisible
Deadly fumes from the painted wood,
Won't do my lungs any good.
Yes it's pretty awkward
And there's homework in need of doing,
But right now
I want to be with my dad
In his shed
Throwing darts.
poem by A.J. Ryan
Added by Poetry Lover
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