Treasure Island

Mark R Slaughter


Winter


A cracked lip; raw skin.
I pined for orange flickers
Dancing off a cheery fire.

A gelid blast of arctic air
Had caught me unawares -
Reinforcing my desire.

Turning down an avenue,
I froze; suspicious trees -
Likely destined for a pyre -

Were laughing off the icy chill
Of callous winter nights.
And I? Simply to retire

Snug, inside a balmy chair
Of warming solitude:
Ah! my carol, my festive choir.


Copyright Mark R Slaughter 2009










< br>














































< br>Winter winter winter winter winter
Winter winter winter winter winter
Winter winter winter winter winter

Submitted: Tuesday, November 03, 2009
Edited: Saturday, November 24, 2012

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  • Frederick Kesner (11/17/2009 7:03:00 AM)

    All sorts of warmths and clasping comforts await the often harsh reality that winters can bring. Beautiful poem here! (Report) Reply

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