Flurries
Empty,
the first
of flurries,
the fall
of February
morning
snow,
across
a dreaming
of blue
and
dawn,
brings the winter
tears
of weeping
sky,
lost,
bereft
and forever
dreams
of spring,
to being
reborn.
Feel free to contact me. Be nice to know who my audience is and perhaps you can suggest some further topics or themes for my writing! And do give me feedback!
p1964km@googlemail.com
