dark, bare trees beckon to me.
stripped of their dress,
leafless
waiting for the shroud of winter.
we will wait together you and I
shivering for a bit,
warming ourselves
with the fires of Autumn's lost color.
11/14/2007
Posted on 11/15/2007Copyright © 2024 Mary Ellen Smith
You catch the feel of winter in your inimitable style. Great last line!
