Jan 27


Oh for summer days I waste away 
For sunny skies have turned to grey.
My hair has highlights of crystal snow
Another step my feet dare not go.
I reach into the freezing cold
Searching for a bit of warmth of which to grab hold
But nothing comes
And I have lost the feeling in my thumbs.
I search deep inside with hopes to find
A little spark that has not yet resigned.
But there is none, not even a bit.
I guess I’d better stop complaining and just embrace it.

About the Author: LadyMidnight
"There is nothing to writing. All you have to do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed." - Ernest Hemmingway