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winter sighs
January 20, 2021
Winter sighs—
cold blue eyes,
this, my dear,
you can’t deny:
Leaves are turning
round and round,
crystal daggers hit the ground,
of all which gray skies do abound,
the cold wind howls,
a pin-pricked ghoul
snow is falling,
hills are calling,
coated new and fresh once more—
Winter sighs,
and all which old
passes by.
© Anonymous
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This poem was inspired by the freezing a fresh snow of winter brings. I thought it would be fun if I imagined what would happen if Winter ever sighed, and this poem illustrates that with vivid imagery.