Winter
the last leaf of fall-
waiting for the warm spring sun
buried under snow
–
falling sleet-
an icy glaze
on english ivy
the last leaf of fall-
waiting for the warm spring sun
buried under snow
–
falling sleet-
an icy glaze
on english ivy
my outstretched fingers-
reaching out for your touch but
you’re already gone
–
icy fog-
your skin cold
to the touch
well before sunrise
the clamor of rubbish bins
echoes in my sleep
–
venus rising-
masked bandits
steal my trash
the scent of rabbit
coaxes the fox from her den
and into the snow
–
late winter-
fresh snow
on the deadfall
so many evenings
spent in stony solitude
with yet without you
–
rain etched stones-
the once neat path
overgrown
in the morning sun
slight pockets of fog linger
on winter hillsides
–
morning mist-
migrating geese
hug the shore
damp and feverish-
a restful sleep eludes me
on this bed of coals
–
noonday sun-
ice in my glass
long turned to water
my old tired soul
steeped in warm flowing water
washing me away
–
frozen windows-
winter winds blow
through my soul
a pile of old clothes-
years of living on the street
etched deep in her face
–
dirty snow-
sleep arrives on
a cardboard box
lying here in bed
unnbeknownst to you your trust
already betrayed
–
heavy fog-
your train leaves
without me