The Teenager: A Poetry Collection

Poem 8: First Light of Winter

Aged lines on wood,

You couldn’t pay me enough!

Cold rakes through me,

Can’t shiver.

Scrawling some words

On a ragged piece of paper,

A dark fairy-tale –

My version of those

Few crumbles of bread.

Awkward attempts

Answering sighs

Quiet now

Tears are silent.

Spiders in the dark,

Delicate cobwebs of

Icicles

Cold happy

White light,

Ramblings of a mad girl –

Crying out in vain.