It’s still here; winter Marching to that clove of seasons We remain road-kill Frozen, run over by ice and time Clutching fingers stiffened releasing Any vestige of warm memory And all the light That winter allows To see war as it is (Not the misguided Miscalculations of man) But nature’s Mysteries of the obvious Share this:ShareFacebookWhatsAppEmailRedditLike this:Like Loading... Related Leave a Reply Cancel reply Enter your comment here... Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Email (required) (Address never made public) Name (required) Website You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. ( Log Out / Change ) You are commenting using your Google account. ( Log Out / Change ) You are commenting using your Twitter account. ( Log Out / Change ) You are commenting using your Facebook account. ( Log Out / Change ) Cancel Connecting to %s Notify me of new comments via email. Notify me of new posts via email. Δ Post navigation Previous Previous post: Safeguards of SpringNext Next post: KITE SEASON
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