Wednesday, 11 December 2013

Winter's Night


It is midday, and still the thick fog hugs close to the window, tinted yellow and gold by the weak sun, leaving all it touches cold and damp. The cloud fell last night, blinding the stars and hanging in the light from orange streetlamps. That is when I wrote my new poem "Winter's Night".


Winter's Night

Shadows dark, spill from headlight beams 
that cut the swirling air. 
The night is cloaked by fading fog, 
greying fog, 
an all pervading, damping smog, 
that dulls the lamplight,
mutes the moon
and smothers the robins evening tune. 
Trees black as shadow puppets stand, 
whilst Winter's chilling creeping hand
conducts 
it's mist and unseen, 
the frost can act.
Crystalline daggers
that cut, 
the tender stems and
shatter microscopic cracks. 
And so the fog and frost,
under winters icy glare,
complete their deadly pact,
And shadows dark, spill from headlight beams 
that cut the swirling air and
all pervading, freezing, smog.
Copyright Sophie May Lewis 2013

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