ON NEW FALLEN SNOW III
The air crisp, cold
Each breath, sharp intake
A jolt through the body
Where is my soul
A world holding its breath
A want for something
The air is crisp, clean starlight bold
Each sharp intake is invigorating
A jolt through my bones
Where is my soul
A world old and out there,
Waiting for something
Copyright © Poet Tellaferro | Year Posted 2024
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