Poetry | Stories | Photography
The touch of snow,
courage where once there was a desire to be unseen.
Despite their warnings,
a desire stronger than the old trees takes hold.
Walking towards the trees,
whispering from the dark and the light of your being.
Something otherworldly,
a name forms upon your lips as you fall: “Freya”.
Walking up the street,
oblivious to the wind;
skirt above your head.
Spring is on the wind, flowers begin to bloom, and the day is new.
Walking to remember the Winter you cannot forget, walking to shed some of the much-loved Winter calories.
Passing by a new neighbour, the dog greets you with a smile and the neighbour a snarl.
C & K 