You are walking alone, through a forest at night, The fog so dense you can barely see ten meters in front of you. The cold bites at your ears, the incline is steep, You are walking towards an unknown source of light. + You hear a single bell, a goat or a sheep. - Civilisation must be near, it’s December and farmers are keeping their livestock close. You smell burning wood. + The fog is getting denser. - You try to wipe your glasses clean. + It doesn’t help. A fence appears ou

As part of an assessment for my Creative Writing class, I had to write 40 lines of poetry. I don't write a lot of poetry...

His phone ringing for the thousandth time, Has him feeling hopeless. Changing his private number once more, Has not deterred these...