winter. allows the cold stay in my body
blocks after the wind passes through.

with it, my body carries all the snows
of the rocky, bleak, Kilmanjoro's peaks.

on the streets, i shiver with every trod i take;
waiting for the melt when the Spring thaw arrives.

meanwhile i center my self with gravity,
balancing once again, all the tomorrows.

[tomorrow!], a sigh from the dead
is heard among all the cemeteries.

Tomorrow, a flagitious carry-over
from todays and yesterdays before.

we are what we were, just dressed
differently and we walk taller.

01/17/2008

Posted on 01/17/2008
Copyright © 2026 Charlie Morgan