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snow frosts the branches in icing swirls
candy coating chocolate bark
my mouth waters
instantly freezing and i wince
i am weaker than i thought
thin skin and thinner blood
knives of air lancing my lungs
i shudder
my days of youth were spent in tropic sun
warm torrential rains or
my lungs sliced by dry heat instead
fifteen years ago and still
i find the gingerbread images before me
tastier to see than feel
struggling to find beauty in all my senses
defeated by the cold
i shrug and wonder
perhaps my lesson today
is my weakness in the icy face
of winter's austere strength
4 bits of love:
I love it when you write poetry, TM. Is it fast for you or do you spend ages on it, I'm wondering. I agree with your sentiments exactly - not only am I weak and whiny, but depressed. I should probably celebrate the end of January with a party to lift my spirits and another when Febraury is over because it is an evil thing and needs to go away.
You said it much better than I could have.
'Winter sucks big old goat balls' is not very poetic at all.
;)
I would also like to apologize for using the phrase goat balls in my last comment.
I blame the snow. And the darkness.
I love the gingerbread images. And I know the feeling about the cold. You say it SO well.
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