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Winter
December 2, 2013
Winter comes and goes
like the sparkling frost that leads it
A colorful world once well known
now buried deep beneath it
Distant minds full of
white noise, cold eyes, trapped dreams
that breathe it
Watch as the air turns to smoke from our mouths
soundlessly whistling, keep it
going back into the chill it came from.
The air is dead but the wind blows strong
We keep heads up but our eyes belong
On the promise ahead
We mimic the stillness
Of trees bare and shed
We think softly, distant
Of the colors instead.
© Lindsey D., Marblehead, MA
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