The cold seeps into the skin, chilling it to the heart. The cold does not see nor hear, but it feels, we wonder if it has a mind of its own or just a heart nor does anyone know if it's blue, purple, or gray. If its warm or cold. Does the wind have a home of its own or does it uninviting visit house after house, the next to the next, winter after winter? Does it have brothers or sisters or even a mother and father? Does it have a cat or a dog or is it just lonely? Lonely for love, companionship, or even just a mere friend. The cold, the wind is just anonymous as the name of every sand of grain or every little tiny leaf on a tree that falls to the earth heavenly.
No comments:
Post a Comment