With each snow flake my heart sinks
Breathing has become a chore—
Speech is gone long before I can think
Opening my mouth could win the war.
My eyes are pasted against the ground.
Making comparisons to stars and sky,
I’m in my own world, don’t hear a sound—
I have two left feet and a mind that lies.
Years pass and I stay asleep, hibernating
Never will I see I slept through spring.
DannYetmanhttp://yetmanpoetry.blogspot.com/
0 comments:
Post a Comment