Cold winds
Nipped his nose,
But seeing her
Warm her hands
With his, he wanted
To caress her face
And tell her that under
This blanket of snow
Her cold, proud heart
Needed to be thawed
Under his inferno of
An umbrella.
YOU ARE READING
Hiraeth
PoetryHIRAETH- (n.) A homesickness for a place you can never return to, a place which never was. Previously: Songs Of My Lonely Soul. *** A Song Of My Lonely Soul. A Ballad Of My Heart Whole. A Story That Was Never Said. When We Find It To Be Dead. ...
