Treasure Island

Robert Green


Winters Shroud.


Winters mist rolled over the hill
Passing through the forested trees
Hauntingly, as a shroud
Moving slowly, no breeze

Winters creeping fingers
Cold and icy,
Like a flowing stream
Wraps around, cold and steely.

Natures drama unfolding
The mist still rolling
Looking to touch
To grip tightly, wisps spiralling.

Submitted: Wednesday, February 19, 2014
Edited: Wednesday, February 19, 2014

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Comments about this poem (Winters Shroud. by Robert Green )

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  • Hans Vr (3/29/2014 10:06:00 AM)

    Icy, cold, the reader feels the chill.
    Very well written. Moments of winter very well captured in flowing verses. (Report) Reply

  • Poetheart Morgan (2/24/2014 5:47:00 PM)

    Good to see your poems again Poet... say goodby the winter...you describe so well the season.....so melancholic...rich in details....Thanks Poet.... (Report) Reply

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