Frost Chills
Chills run bone deep as a new bard steps from shire
His mystic demander cloaks all his path sires
Painting the meadow with ice laid deep
Covering in shadows making nature weep
Leaves scatter and shy deep in the corner
All fall into a yawning sleep, from his porter
Once heavy and fruit boasting now bare
Burrowed deep in crevices everywhere
Swishing and blow the wind tries to help
But a nuisance itself we cry with a yelp
There is no stopping this muse as it flows
Oh my heart! No ones to know where it goes
Frost has taken this land for his own
When you walk steps crack like a bone
Endure we must his tactic a while
It's all in this season it's a harsh kinda style
© cat hodgson
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem