Winter's Storm
I am the winter, '97,
A snow storm rising,
Armageddon.
Yet, I am the autumn's call,
A gentle breeze,
The orange fall.
Still, my swirl of auburn leaves,
Turn carbon black,
Beneath the trees.
And though I crave the summer's kiss,
My dreams belong
To icy bliss.
I am the storm cloud in it's prime,
My heart and soul
Is wintertime.
Copyright © Ellie May Broadstock | Year Posted 2017
|