The Winter Road
By: Anabell Lebosana
The whistling, whooshing west wind in December,
Causes my heart to reach its bleak and whiter.
It’s like I am wake and ware but still wane.
Sound of silent huffing of breath is screaming pain.
Cold rising bold akin to snake’s hold,
Gripping, sneaking, hissing up to open wold.
The path behind is veil of silence, a blanket of darkness
Nothing is there but a winter road devoid of presence.
YOU ARE READING
Words for Souls
PoetryThese pieces are based on the stokes of my own hands, derived from my heart's own feelings and produced by my own mind. Emotions are like the gushing river, let it flow, let it free and let people see its blue waves, feel its coldness.
