Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Mar 2017
Immobile
Chin tucked
Against the winter cold
I stand as ever
Common as the wind ridge
On the snowfield  
It is late
Evening is near
And my breath shallows
Oh, to be subsumed by the warmth
If only once
To spin dizzily and happily β€˜round
In the bright circle
So that I may
At last
Exhale.
Philip Lawrence
Written by
Philip Lawrence  New York
(New York)   
  521
     ---, Kathryn Maurine, Kyle, Elisa and Robert Andrews
Please log in to view and add comments on poems