Temporary January

[charlie142]

I've edited the poem and tried to address some of the issues you guys pointed out.

1st Edit:

Temporary January
Never is it a crash, a plunge, a fall -
rather it is a dull, soft thud, and then
a slow, seeping explosion of the walls;
a straining sigh, a colder cry, again.
An early evening rarely comes alone -
it brings a flood, a rush of damp, dark blue.
When lamps are lit we then begin our own
escape - it can not capture all in view.
These violet days and weeks of reddened eyes
soon catch the 67 bus away:
For Winter Floods the spring is not the time,
as ice-cream drips to giggling dismay.
And then I feel the summer shining down;
Its promises are a beautiful sound.

Original:

Temporary January
Never is it a crash, a plunge, a fall -
rather it is a dull, soft thud, and then
a slow, seeping explosion of the walls;
a straining sigh, a colder cry, again.
At five o'clock a drag, the day is dead.
A flood moves in, a rush of damp, dark blue.
A dog - she barks, she tries to get ahead,
but winter floods will capture all in view.
But violet days and weeks of reddened eyes
all catch the 67 bus away;
they have their day, but now is not the time
as ice-cream drips to giggling dismay.
For now we feel the summer shining down;
its promise one of such beautiful sound.