Poets logo

The Voice In The Snow

Before the break

By Clifford KincaidPublished about a year ago • 1 min read
The Voice In The Snow
Photo by Taylor Burnfield on Unsplash

Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.

I walk and I walk and I walk

There is no one to talk to. Just my thoughts of remorse.

I should have stayed, I should have listened, I should have...

Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.

I stop. I listen. Nothing but the sound of the snow falling.

Yes, there is a sound snow makes but only in the right place.

Deep in the woods. Deep in to my mistakes.

I stand and I wait.

Despite the cold I stay warm, almost euphoric.

I look up. Nothing.

Just grey and white skies peaking through the ponderosa pines.

Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.

I continue my journey away from the fire.

Fire I sparked, Fire I couldn't stop.

I pick up the pace, hoping to find the break.

But there is no reprieve in sight.

Just when I think I will never see the light

I hear her voice, piercing through the air.

My feet get heavy, I stop and turn

My heart lifts—

and the snow no longer crunches beneath me.

It carries me.

Mental Healthnature poetrysad poetrylove poems

About the Creator

Clifford Kincaid

I am a father, I am a brother, I am a son, and I am your neighbor. I will be the one to set you free. I will be the one that allows you to breath. Love people.

Enjoyed the story? Support the Creator.

Subscribe for free to receive all their stories in your feed.

Subscribe For Free

Reader insights

Comments

There are no comments for this story

Be the first to respond and start the conversation.

Sign in to comment
    Written by Clifford Kincaid