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 gla...
"Always be a poet, even in prose." ~ Charles Baudelaire