Cold is cold
Like frozen river
Each its turn
Passing between the flows
Of icily hands
The channels
Of bitter inside
The bright crystals
Of glowing twinkling
Winter thoughts
A seed stillborn
Lies in the cradle of earth
Unmoving its sleep
And lost
In time’s spring
Never to come
Wednesday, December 26, 2007
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment