Feeling the box I work in closing in on me during winter’s last gasp,
She has dug in her heals refusing to yield to warmth.
Unmerciful and unrepentant in her bitterness,
she taunts and tortures us all.
Yet, spring birds sing of spring as a lover sings of her man.
The sun struggles to break through the dark grey,
melting away the dim cold
and drabness that surrounds all.
Aug 22, 2012
Aug 22, 2012 at 7:03 PM UTC
Feeling the box I work in closing in on me during winter’s last gasp,
She has dug in her heals refusing to yield to warmth.
Unmerciful and unrepentant in her bitterness,
she taunts and tortures us all.
Yet, spring birds sing of spring as a lover sings of her man.
The sun struggles to break through the dark grey,
melting away the dim cold
and drabness that surrounds all.
All poems are copy written and soul property of Vicki Kralapp.
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