Monday, July 28, 2008

Winters' Woes, some Bleed, in Prose

Perilous Propellers:

Where others left, yet hold they on, These stragglers, left behind
The friendship circle, broken, gone, The winter has been kind.


With form deformed and toll being took, And natures path, led way
The remnants of what once had look, Now dangles in decay.

Twisted Torture:

A cry for help, a last ditch made, Attempt to reach the skies
Alas, too late, soon good-bye bade, One more of Winters' cries



A barren twig, a branch now light, It's weight robbed by the sun
And dry, and heat, and nature's plight, Left standing, none, but one


Delicate Danglers:

Off-set against a carpet green, And veils of white, so bland
A last ditch effort can be seen, For pride to take it's stand


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the Muse, himself

Muses of things photographic, and of life,seen by all each day.