At times winter visits early,
Spitting fragments of yesterday’s snow,
To strike an already scarred face.
Yet, at other times the curve of its finger
Interlocks with the conscience’s
As it blabbers on like an infant.
Dec 30, 2014
Dec 30, 2014 at 6:41 PM UTC
At times winter visits early,
Spitting fragments of yesterday’s snow,
To strike an already scarred face.
Yet, at other times the curve of its finger
Interlocks with the conscience’s
As it blabbers on like an infant.
Request permission to use this poem