Grey skies softly weep,
emacaulate melancholy.
Ravens perched high,
upon skeletal tree limbs.
I stroll alone in this ghost
town, serenaded by snow
birds.
Frantic tunes emerging from,
ice laden hedges.
Footpaths slick with frozen
tears, from those gone before.
It's Christmas once again,
loneliness is the phantom,
lodged deep within my soul.
Wayne Russell is a creative writer and amateur photographer who hails from Tampa, Florida. Wayne currently resides in an alcohol and substance abuse treatment facility, in the middle of nowhere, southern Ohio.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.