Thursday, January 15, 2009

Winter Poem

I trudge through the snow-packed streets,
grey steam pushing across the sky,
behind me a fresh path of feet.

I open my mouth, try to eat
the flakes that circle like white flies;
I trudge through the snow-packed streets,
grey steam pushing across the sky,
in search of a small room with heat
where I can find a bed to lie
down and dream of the next time we meet;
I trudge through the snow-packed streets,
grey steam pushing across the sky,
behind me a fresh path of feet.