Wednesday, 8 February 2012

March Prisoner




I shiver 
and dream
of hot summers

past
Whilst silvery 
feathers
dance patterns

upon glass
Whispering
life’s message
"This soon will pass..."

Figures of Stone
Apples lay prone
The incessant
ringing
of the phone
Warm by the fire
the river
runs higher
with constant
dripping 
of rain

Daffodils
fade 
Tulips 
bloom
Nature lifts 
winters gloom
Perhaps 
then soon
I will
leave this room........