On a Cold Morning
Wrote this while freezing my ass off in -1C weather!
It's late morning and the frost lingers
As my breath mists in the air
Winter runs his cold fingers
Through the sleep-tangles of my hair
-
Morning light hits the lace, scattered on leaves
Hanging from spiderwebs which hang from the eaves.
-
I stand in the doorway hoping to find,
Some answer or meaning in the calm countryside
But there's only silence, echoing in my mind
The magic is broken, and I go back inside.
About the Creator
Ash Taylor
Lover of fantasy and all things whimsical. Currently studying Writing and Publishing at UNE in Armidale, Australia. Living on Anaiwan land.
he/him
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More stories from Ash Taylor and writers in Poets and other communities.
The Singer So Shy
She stood near the cold fireplace, watching the second-hand tick down to the hour. In another minute, the clock's bird would emerge and warble the hour. She reached up and touched the clock, tracing the gentle slope of the farmhouse roof, then trailing down the lilac strewn side, to the white fence framed dooryard. She wished she was there, where the air would smell of lilacs rather than smoke.
By Judah LoVato4 days ago in Fiction
Comments (3)
Beautiful... I love it...
-1 c yikes! Lovely writing. 😊
This is lovely, Ash. I am so glad I read this!!