Hiver dans mes os.

Winter In My Bones

I want to crawl back into my summer skin.

But the nights are too cold.

And the days sun filled, but beaten & defeated by wind wild.
My bones ache for that warmth
And that birth of new life, or maybe just life fallen asleep to wake.

Spring… is it time?

Is it time yet to wake?



Quick breaths, lungs filling with ice.

Fingertips barely felt.
But my heart continues to pound in my frozen chest.
Soon, I know the seasons will change
In more ways than one.

Soon a great wake will begin.

Impatiently I wait.






I write poems. Not too many people know that.
Winter In My Bones I began last night and then finished tonight - it's a little bit of a different style than what I've previously written.
I think I'd like to post more here.