Cold whispers

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I hear them, their cold whispers, weaving through midnight
feel slumber, ebb and recede, beneath the strawberry moon.
Oh! what lies amidst the shadows of lone and desolate trees,
I tremble, but bow not to the savage breeze.

I witness, despair dappled grey moan as one sheds its leaves,
as though crimson blood, that spills from the warrior’s blade.
I caught, then sprinkles of hope, when emerged, white dawn
and step out as pigeons spiraled into the air.

 ‘The strongest of us blossom in most exposed situations.’

 

 

Photo credits: Karin Gustafson

Posted for Poems in April @ Real Toads

& on Monday Writes @ My Blog – Verses

verses

28 thoughts on “Cold whispers

  1. Old Egg says:

    What an extraordinary illustration to go with such stunnin verse Sanaa. I always comfort myself with how clever the deciduous trees are to have that plan of action to survive the winter by shedding that part of her which is must vulnerable, whereas conifers have worked out how to be less vulnerable in winters hard times.

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