Poetry

Pieces of Winter

Once a house, but never a home,
here, the fair babe now withered,
dying in a murky room, under the
wintry spell of the broken house.

It was said once in Spring, the house
glowed amid the same trite rows, and
welcomed her traveling heart into
the warmth behind its hazel door.

Summer came, and humanity danced,
and hooked her heart into a happy room,
rapt with mesmerizing tunes, fluffy air,
and eternal promises of tomorrows.

When she next looked out the window,
her eyes saw red, yellow and orange,
the leaves that sprung eternal began
its regime against the seasons’ end.

The house, thin-skinned and emptied,
could not protect against the cold,
which waved in intermittent shards,
bursting her heart, plumped, in pieces.

Standard

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s