Purple tinge colors the winter sky

As the sun descends

And the day ends.

Barren branches create

Patterns above my head.

They creak in the bitter wind.

Quiet screams.

Isolation and cold surround me,

But I’m not lonely

and I’m not scared.

We anticipate.

We dread.

We avoid.

But it comes in the end.

Time is relentless.


Like this poem? Read more like it: http://www.wedbushwrite.com/red-as-blood/a


Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.