Sunday, January 01, 2006



Winter
D. Bowden 2004

In the wee hours
Of a frosty morn
I lie coldly awake
and listen to the wind
howling in the darkness.
I hear the agonies
of lost restless souls.
Icy fingernails claw
and scratch at my window pane.

1 comment:

rona said...

Perhaps i will eventually be such a lost and restless soul. Listen for me.