C o l d
The forest grows deep with late night fallen snow
whispers wander through barren branches soften
w h y is it so cold inside the river calls your name
replay the mystic lines enchanted, frame by frame,
L y r i c wear your hair like l i g h t divine the heavens fall
on worlds so small on wordless planes recline and glow
vessels all emptying to fill again we know .
Not where those footprints lead
wandering adrift
Love, ( is just a gift )
No one owns or claims by right,
I am lost in all the found things are but a ghostly game
Deep in a late night words of fallen snow
Replaying enchanted lines rivers hushing frame by frame
why is it so cold outside .
Poetry by Chaucer Whethers
Read 1625 times
Written on 2012-12-05 at 13:41
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