Never Knows
How fine a sound to hear you breatheThere is no time the moments wreathe
In silent song, in smoke ring violet pearls
Of rain,
No one around only ghosts too close to see
They wave their hands through frozen leaves
Bare branches dream while Winter weaves
A coat so cold, so deep within
So fitting, like a second skin,
Commas pause to muse to lose a thread
Of broken blues, red to green instead
Of gray you read today in lines of snow
Between screens unseen you never know
Poetry by Chaucer Whethers
Read 722 times
Written on 2018-01-06 at 16:12
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