alone

poem by me: winter morning (with abused punctuation)

a few half-hearted icicles still,
the slowly-disappearing snow in the backyard,
a solitary robin on a desolate branch;

above, the sky stretches like faded blue silk: old, and empty of any warmth.
Indexing:
^^ Yeah--and "soon" kinda depends on one's perspective, too...I'm sure in a couple of months I'll still be looking forward to the coming of Spring! =P