Walking through the city strip
on a cold and icy morn,

The dark winter cloak
casts a somber mood
upon the passing strangers,

A sudden break of wind
gushes towards the trees,
lashing through the leaves,

The bitter film of cold and ice
that chills the skin,
adds no comfort
from the wind,

The freezing nights,
chase the budding birth
of early flaking balls of ice,

That drifts throughout
the dreary glazing days
of softly falling snow.

When the season thwarts
against the battering winds
and icy fields of snow,
the wind does blow a warm
breeze upon the misty glow,

Of steeping mounds of pure white
mountains, and crystal glinting
peaks entwined within the lonely branches
that reach towards the opening sky,

There is a whisper that silently speaks,
beneath the heart of deep,
that tells the secret of four seasons,
upon the night of the full moon and tide,
that are our yearning secrets.

















[edit on 29-9-2009 by catalyst2466]

Thanks Jackflap for your lovely u2u comment!

That painted quite the surreal picture in my head and brought to mind the solitary, white painted memories of winter. I must say this is a very dramatic piece concerning the imagery. Simply lovely!

S&F