Evening Poems: Little Thief

~ Brooke F.


Wind streaking through my hair,
Someone yells,
But I do not care.
People stop,
Then they stare,
Bounding along the roof’s top
I gasp for air,
But I dare not stop,
My feet are light,
On this starry night,
I fear the cold chill not,
I only fear getting caught.

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Published by Brooke F.

I’m a college student who has unrealistic dreams of being a famous authoress who writes mystery novels. Either that or a goblin... haven't decided which. I live on a farm up on a hilltop where the wind likes to mess up my hair and the trees sway poetically in the wind.

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