This Poem Is About Winter -Not a Person
White haired witch of winter whipping
icy blades cutting paths into the face.
Amillion flakes glaze a blue iced brain
the heart writhes about as if on fire.
Where does the glow of youth reside
beneath a ton of blue and drift.
but this is no time to quilt- to grow stiff
it is a time to water flowers of the mind.
Build a crown of bloom around the soul
to melt these endless-hellish snows.
Copyright © Anthony Biaanco | Year Posted 2015
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