Dark winter night, a window-sill is crystallized with frost,
Outside a world is bitter, dump, cold
The moon is cruel, prudish and the howling wind
Is like a two-edged sword to sheathe the escaping boughs
City streets deserted, shops are closed against avenues glow
Only scattered papers are chased by whirling winds on the streets below
Shadows of feral cats stalk in the dimming lights; a frightening show
Who would walk the lamp-lit streets of snow.
My past child memories so gentle, full of glee
Against the warm window glass do return to me
Copy rights 2010
All Rights reserved
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
who would walk the lamp, good writing, thanks.