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 hand.
Wind-burnt and swept his hair is silver-grey;
a mix of black and white, and every cast between,
till warrior and wasteland are the same.
His gaze fastens on the landscape
in winter light's slow fade,
lake and mountain stained that silver shade.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
