Monday, April 21, 2008


Winter lays an icy hand
on my “forever more”
and freezes expectation
behind a polar fleece jacket
because today there is no sun
and the cold nestles in
beyond the barrier
thought impassable.
The mindless cold of endings
like a power hungry fiend
taxes internal energy
until nothing left to keep
for when I need to sleep
away from the grief.
Though endings be beginnings
and change a mere re-charge
the battery of soul
works half-pace in the cold
and splutters like a tearful child
implanted in the old.
Oh, it’s a small, small, thing;
no one would think it’s anything
except a woman just like me
who values continuity!

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  1. Excellent poem. I enjoyed reading it, and the picture that you have included in the post.

    NathanKP -

  2. Thank you Nathan. Glad you enjoyed. I love the mysteriousness of mist or the future as it were. Who knows what lies beyond?


  3. Thanks, poetryman. I also love the misty forest!