Snow (Death Poem)
Why
Worry
Muffled up
Falling silent
White on grey road
Treading on tyre treads
Winter naked tree skeletons
Icicles seem to hang from my nose
Footprints crunch across the virgin crispness
Smoke rises from drink happy crowd
Slip sliding home from the bar
Sneeze freezing friends
Alone at last slán
Breathing fog
Sit down
Sleep
Fin.
poem by Ian Beckett
Added by Poetry Lover
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