Silver-Grey
At the dimming of the day,
unfriended, by his fire he stands,
a warrior of the wasteland,
body crippled by the elements' cruel hands.
Wind-burned and swept,
his hair is silver-grey,
a blend of black and white
and every cast between
'til warrior and wasteland look the same.
His gaze fastens on the landscape
in winter light's slow fade,
lakes and mountains
stained that silver shade.
Copyright © Keith Bickerstaffe | Year Posted 2016
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment