Winter

Walking through the city strip on a cold and icy morn,
the dark winter cloak casts a somber mood upon the passing strangers.

A sudden break of wind gushes towards the trees,
lashing through the leaves.

The bitter film of cold and ice that chills the skin,
adds no comfort from the wind.

The freezing nights chase the budding birth of early flaking balls of ice,
that drift throughout the dreary glazing days of softly falling snow.

When the season thwarts against
the icy fields of snow,
the wind does blow upon the misty glow
of steeping mounds of pure white mountains.

The crystal glinting peaks,
entwined within the lonely branches
reach towards the opening sky.

There is a whisper that silently speaks,
and tells the secret of four seasons,
on the night of the full moon and tide,
that are our yearning secrets.




Copyright

1EGN-SBWK-ONLV-KJMU