Undisturbed these blankets new
undisturbed conceal the few.
Those who wander worn and weary
speak of Spring's antiquity.
Winter's callous tears will bring
no more odes for choirs to sing.
Restless nights breed endless dreams
undisturbed to cease the streams.
But glory still remains amid
wide expanses now deemed placid.
I long to feel your touch again
but I will wait until you rien.
The mornings shine with crystals bright
whilst Twilight's solitude holds tight.
May 30, 2013
May 30, 2013 at 1:11 AM UTC
Undisturbed these blankets new
undisturbed conceal the few.
Those who wander worn and weary
speak of Spring's antiquity.
Winter's callous tears will bring
no more odes for choirs to sing.
Restless nights breed endless dreams
undisturbed to cease the streams.
But glory still remains amid
wide expanses now deemed placid.
I long to feel your touch again
but I will wait until you rien.
The mornings shine with crystals bright
whilst Twilight's solitude holds tight.
This was the first poem I ever wrote, and it is a sonnet. One morning during the winter I looked outside and saw a brand new blanket of snow completely coating the neighborhood. The way the light shown off of it was incredible, so I decided to write what I saw. Enjoy.
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