The trees dance in the
winds of an
unusual winter
whispering through t
he musk of a
dying hope
the streets are
as empty
as the abandoned
warehouses
the white blankets
of snow
begin to unravel
as spring blossoms
beneath the piles
of the winter
hush. The sun
welcomed back
to its familiar home
while rust clouds
its vison
creating the stutters
of sorrow
cold breaths of
air. Trees undress
their clothed
bark of this
bright and shivering
day. Sanity
smiles for a
slaughtering spring
one which never
comes.
The haunting
thrills
sway and wonder
as the crisp
leafs
wind throughout
the fields of
thick snow
the hidden wonderland
beneath had no
light to reveal its
irreplaceable loveliness.
Deep and inviting
A chill in the
wind of a
Familiar sorrow
The bare back of
Winters touch.
The stillness of
Twilight speaks in a
Hush tone.