Saturday, 13 July 2013


Winter, most inhuman
Cruel and cold, destroying all
Locks of ice and chains of frost the world it holds in its grip
With cold fire stealing our last breath
A shroud of white, darker than the blackest pall
This bitter mistress, harsh, unrelenting
There is no truth greater than that
At the centre of this still heart
As the world sleeps beneath this frigid shroud
A mock death; a mocking laugh
In these manacles we are bound

No comments:

Post a Comment