Winter's Cold
The world wears glass again,
its skin has turned ice-white.
Its breath is biting with cold
and we suffer through the night.
The mirrors crack and shatter
as the temperature steadily drops,
and water hardens until it's as stone,
and the dead trees look like props.
The mountains shiver with every breeze,
and flakes of white stray through the air.
The gnarled banks cry out from frost
because winter has stripped them bare.
Breath is visible and the color of snow,
and limbs deal loss because of the cold.
the silver weather hardens the land,
and diamond chill takes a bone-white hold.
1/12/2012
YOU ARE READING
RIP
PoetryTwisted. Fearful. Beating. Harmony: Dark imagery of an ex-psychopath written in poetry. Rest in Peace, my little straight jacket. Enjoy the reading, my friends!