My Winter
In rushes winter
At a furious pace
Upon arrival
Time slows
Descending from grace
Shrouding blue skies
In blankets of grey
Dark extends
Cold creeps
Shall not go away
Icy fingers burrow
Excavating my being
Hollow spirit
Light hides
No longer seeing
Emotionless shivers
Inhaled with each breath
As if frozen
Air stills
Yet smelling of death
Copyright © Melanie Cox | Year Posted 2017
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