In the dead of winter,
crows call out,
their song a splinter-
in the silence of doubt.
Spring is longed for.
Its warmth wanted more-
than ever before.
Though, in the time between,
beauty can be seen.
Winter’s icy breath,
is as silent as death.
As time slowly stills,
waiting for spring’s hills-
of flowers that draw in the rain.
As the chilly air is all that remains-
of winter’s comforting embrace,
when there’s only spring’s grace.
Posted in response to the challenge Spring: Writing Contest.
My life is changing,
Like the four seasons,
Though without any reason-
I find myself scared of it.
Change; it’s a horrifying but beautiful thing.
Like in the early mornings of spring,
We feel in such a deep way,
flooding our veins throughout the day.
Some let themselves feel,
then move on, as if it wasn’t a big deal.
Some cling onto their emotions,
causing commotions.
Some push it away,
For every word I can’t say,
I try to write it down,
but at the end of the day,
I know I’ll never find the words.
They jumble together,
like the sunset’s melting colors.
For every excuse I make,
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