There's a story in here somewhere.


Winter




There is a crispness in the air, the crunch of the snow, a crackle of dead leaves. But that can't take away the bite of the night, this blister of a day where I can see the orangeness of your face, the terror on your lips and still feel the question hanging between us.

© 2006 Anne Westlund





















Poetry by Anne Westlund
Read 888 times
Written on 2006-10-08 at 04:05

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