The cold of winter,
A harsh breeze across hands.
We huddle together
In our homes aflame.
A heartache that is ceaseless
For the warm that once was.
I am a frozen over lake
That longs to flow
If you wish to be
The turn of the earth
To melt me
By all means I can not stop you.
Being frozen and being thawed,
It's a process.
But how can you know warmth
Without first knowing coldness?
YOU ARE READING
Poetry of thought
PoetryPoems and aspirations of my mind. Sometimes short stories [Not constantly updated]
