Winter


I cannot say when I’ll be back.

But this I can write for now.

Each day I wake.

Is like a song.

With melodies and rhymes.

The land is now as white as a sheet upon a bed.

Colors of Summer is now hidden for now. 

Winter’s cold is now freezing of the wind.

Our steps we hear.

Impression we see.

The flakes that fall.

 Each one, its own.

Yes Mother Earth is showing her age of white.

 With beauty and might.

She does not give up life.

But gives it breath.

So we can live

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