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Date Posted: 02:43:55 09/20/03 Sat
Author: Robert William Gruhn
Author Host/IP: 67.74.40.244
Subject: North Winds Of Winter

Singing with voices so cold,
They have called to me.
Icicle words preserved;
My mind was trapped in freezing isolation.

Still, my ears moved to the sounds,
Of screams they couldn't avoid,
Ripping through a pine,
Just outside my bedroom window.

Oh that poor tree,
Forced to be an unwilling messenger.
Growing up next to a wall,
Once built from its relatives.

Soon I will leave this place,
Abandoning my loneliness,
While that lovely silver tip stands guard,
Over this painted wooden cemetery.

Copyright © 2003 Robert William Gruhn A.R.R.

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