so crisp in the snow,
left the safety of the path behind.
Looking about I wondered where to go,
if I followed would I be out of my mind?
’Twas an easy decision, I trailed the prints
finding myself trekking for miles,
‘til there ahead I spied a glade,
free of Winters icy wiles…
In the centre
a laughing brook tumbled,
birds happily chirped in trees,
I walked to the bank of the water,
feeling warmth as I sank to my knees.
I trailed my cold fingers to thaw them,
for to take the fierce aching away,
’twas then I suddenly espied him
and I stood up quickly to say
“Beg pardon, is this glade
private, should I
not be here at all?”
He replied with such love, “You are here, my dove,
as you died in the cold snow fall”
Penpusher by Pen
Addendum.All posts are © to the author and as such any unauthorized copying, adaptions or re-printing is strictly prohibited...
Most Recent Pennings
Hortense, Magic and Morris…….
Monica on Tuning Fork… pendantry on Change… C.J. Black on Change… Sue Dreamwalker on Change… LadyBlueRose's Thoug… on Change…
Pen's Cloud of Categories
Search by Title..
- 52,598 hits
Save Our Fish….