I am in the winter
of my words—-
barren, harsh
unforgiving
silently waiting
for new buds
to spring forth
like magic beans
sold on a mountain
of promise and
traded for a slight
whisper of hope.
I am in the winter
of my words—-
barren, harsh
unforgiving
silently waiting
for new buds
to spring forth
like magic beans
sold on a mountain
of promise and
traded for a slight
whisper of hope.
