Cornered In a Colorless World...
the steam from my winded breath
hits the cool air
and lingers among lifeless trees
left black and bare
like a group of hunters, winter has crept
through the lands
the snowy crystals cover me like the
dry desert sands
these winter flakes land on the earth
and seem to perfectly hit
like jigsaw pieces that know
right where to fit
I sit still trying to become one with
the wasteland of white
as autumn has once again forfeited
its seasonal fight
a tree falls in the woods and people wonder
does it make a sound?
but I can tell you that dying trees have final words
as they hit the ground
the colorless kaleidoscope I'm looking through
takes over the view of my soul
as winter has now come down like a forgotten ghost
from the north pole
Copyright © Luke Steadman | Year Posted 2009
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