Winter Scenes: Winter's way

Winter's way

I have trod on wind swept,

snow covered lanes.

My boot shod feet

have marched

on frozen planes.

Wrapped in fur and wool

as shield from icy grip.

Winter's way

welcomes weary pilgrim

on his trip.

A path worn well

from hoof and cart,

like a road run through

my barren, frostbitten heart,

leading to the silent ice-clad stream,

my blood flow's stopped,

as in a dream.

Pines trees

whisper in the wind,

heartbeat tells me,

I have sinned.

Lesson's lies,

my memories haunt,

like frosted lakes,

drawn and gaunt.

As heat-less sun

glows on high,

so do daydreams

vilely taunt.

Hope has flown

like snow-geese migrants,

frosted dreams

becomes life’s tyrants.

Blizzard blows

beyond blue horizons,

as youthful goals

grow grizzled, wizened.

The past

has ceased

like glazed streams,

lakes,

meanders,

round,

the way

life

takes.

A Long

❤ ❤ ❤

By AnRo0002 (Own work) [CC0], via Wikimedia Commons

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Someone asked, "What would your life be without color?" I answered, "My life would be pallid and pale without color. Each day would be drab, dreary and dismal. There'd be no primary colors, no rainbows, no yellow sunshine, no red-blue-yellow sunsets and no white clouds. No white snow or black storm clouds. I'd walk in an indistinct and neutral existence. No green trees, no green grass, no blue seas, no blue skies, would leave me cheerless and dry. My face would not turn red with anger or embarrassment. My face would not turn white with fear or pain. I'd not grow green with envy. Nothing would be just black and white. My life would be full of motionless emotion, if there were no color. © 2013 ajwrites57 Image URI: http://mrg.bz/fwDYZp Image URI: http://mrg.bz/g6haeq By Hairysuncold Please find my other writings on Hub...

old friends

old friends searched online for former friends surprised to see untimely ends friends, their spouses, moms and dads sad to see the deaths they had the inexorable tick and tock of time, leads us all to fields, sublime through twisting, turning hands of fate, soon we'll all be known as "late" years roll on, time is passed no one knows how long it lasts each life is counted out by days as friends we oft go separate ways friend's faces show the lines of age as each one turns his separate page fools fleeting time waits for no man eighty years our lives may span so count your days with special care for who knows how, who knows where our beating hearts will one day stop find old friends before they drop © 2014 ajwrites57 A Long ❤ ❤ ❤ Image adapted: By SDRandCo via morguefile.com

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