Winter

Winter


Gray is the season that withers

blossoms dulled by satin frost

how they sadly fall

cruel chill, it breaks them all

rest, rest immortal doves

while winter feigns treasures lost.

 

Crystal brooks still as dusk

mirror figures warm at heart

oaks over icy knolls

sprawling old souls

flutter, flutter leafless arches

for that single spark of life to start.

 

Blushing through frozen woods

morning hints at splendor, frail

a starling in the snow

sleeping on her bough

wake, wake feathered angel

sing sweet trills of the nightingale.

 

 

  ~ Luther Lynton Seahand ~

 


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ECHOESshadow's picture

Your poetry is what i like to

Your poetry is what i like to read it matches the title it flows coherently and it rhymes

 

deepblue's picture

superb work, thanks for

superb work, thanks for sharing!

sweetwater's picture

Now this is real poetry, this

Now this is real poetry, this is what I joined P.Ps to read. Thank you very much. :-) X

bishu's picture

Superb words well placed Mr Luther

Superb words well placed Mr Luther.~a~fan~far~far~away~


©bishu 

 

allets's picture

Lead Us There

Nice