winter comes to burn the light I brought
searing through the snow of swirling thought.
find the words to turn the sunset back
as the ridges bruise an inky black.
winter comes to glorify the dark
space between the days which took my mark--
scrabbling for the crumbs I scattered, spring
holds the answer tied in tidy strings.
winter comes, and I am unafraid
chilled beneath stained sheets--the bed I made.
rest befitting wealth, this crown of thorns
pierces through the cross that I have borne.
winter came and left behind a dream;
I have not yet slept enough to see.
--
Thoughts about the coming cold, and how I'm struggling with NaNoWriMo this year.
No comments:
Post a Comment