It’s like wind..
Fleeting..
Memories..
Sitting on a cloud in the winter
Shivering..
Falling..
Trumpets in the heavens calling..
Menthols inhaled lightly.
Mint and Polish pastries..
Steam wafting coyly.
Coal in the air, red stockings..
Time, desperately heaving
Like spring our hope is calling!
But winter lags ..
Dreams are slow growing
In the cold of winter’s groaning.
Fainting feathered flakes fall freely from the face
Of the universe.
Tears frozen dropping..
Life disturbed, reacting..
No purpose in the rotating of our worlds!
I really enjoyed that one, thank you!
thank you .. appreciate it
Captured the feel of winter nicely
Beautiful x Your poem vibrates.
The only purpose, the one we make
Loved this line – “Fainting feathered flakes fall freely from the face”
Fantastic writing!
This paints the picture your words describe… Very nice!
“Fainting feathered flakes fall freely from the face
Of the universe.”
Incredible image, like touching a frosted window pane.
I like the part about “mint and Polish pastries.”
mmm… I like mint…