My poems may not be all that good
not near as much polish as they should
some of them wither on the vine
but *******
at least they are mine!

I don't want to follow your footsteps

with my two left feet in my two wrong shoes

If I take a path it's the one I will choose

my steps are my own

and I'll walk for a bit

maybe I'll find some shoes that will fit!

Winters bite

has teeth of ice and steel

polished sharp when chill winds blow

burnished white by gently drifting snow

Winter sunrise
sings of hope
forgotten fire
in a frozen world

Dry ink in my head

I have no pen to write what must remain unsaid

caged words between my ears

imprisoned by frustrated tears of rage

that grow to fill a vast and empty page

Flowers on winter wood, don't mind the dark and brave the stinging cold

they flourish as the frost takes hold

winter flowers know full well the joy they bring

is twice as much as blossoms born in spring

Release the mind and find
that earthly care is merely air
a puff of wind blown through your hand
a ripple over passing sand
for then we fully understand
our worries were the drifting snow
which covers all but quickly goes
revealing faintest hopes of spring
this final song we learn to sing
in peace that only death can bring