Sitting here at the edge of misery,
a white ghost nestled in the floor
snowflakes try to swim
like laces of innocence swept away by the angry sea.
Autumn fades slow and clings to the ebbing light,
The air is stiff and cold
and heavy as it muffles out the sound
of the loud shrieking of December's cries.
Each snowflake is like a regret
as they cut through the seams
of the dwindling blue.
Your whispers echo through the breeze,
slowly aching in the low light
waiting for the morning
to embrace me once again.
II December Rain II Community Member 
|
|
