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Carol Shelton Feb 2015
His icy hand reaches toward me
Capturing my spirit
Taking my breath away
Rendering me immobile

I fight with all I have
But it's not enough
I fall deeper and deeper
My life merely a series of lucid dreams
Until my hero Marches in
and Springs me
Carol Shelton Feb 2015
Jazz is freedom
Each note finding its own space
Winding its way into my soul
Melting away my blues
Replacing them sounds created on the fly
Fusing together my broken pieces
As I bop and bebop along
Carol Shelton Feb 2015
Wanton winds whip
Westerly while whooshing wildly
Wicked witch weather
Carol Shelton Feb 2015
Purple crocus smiles
Its greeting gives me hope
Spring will soon be here

— The End —