A Cold State of Being
A Cold State of Being
Winter hangs on
in bare skeletal trees
in cold nights,
in the south,
in March.
It hangs on within me
like a state of being
and I cannot help but doubt
if there will be warmth
and life within me
ever
again.
You can find my poetry by me at: http://brucewhealton.us
Tags: Bruce Whealton, poetry by Bruce Whealton, Word Salad Poetry Magazine