this poem, like many of mine, is written in my darkess hours, hours of depression.


winter

Cold, dark, empty inside,
Wind howls ferociously,
Warning to run and hide,
Hide from the dark.

Winter is ending,
So where is the sun and light?
It is still cold,
And as dark as night.

Winter is still here,
Engraved upon our souls.
Winter will always be near,
For those with nowhere to go.

Reach a hand to another,
Light a path to follow,
Show them your still there,
For inside they feel hollow.




Poetry by amy-leigh
Read 424 times
Written on 2006-07-28 at 02:32

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