Memory
As sleet beats the midnight morning,
Through ice specks and fallen leaves' dust,
With Winter's drought yet colored by
A phantasm's war in my skies.
Through ice specks and fallen leaves' dust,
The memory frozen on conscious ways;
A phantasm's war in my skies—
I scope its child in between us.
The memory frozen on conscious ways,
With Winter's drought yet colored by;
I scope its child in between us,
As sleet beats the midnight morning.
Copyright © Paige Hind | Year Posted 2023
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