Winter-brume

A fog upon my thoughts,
And misty middays without end.
Send, please send the sun,
Nix delay, let wait be done.
Do not so wend, in haste be stark.
As we who soak in winter’s dark,
And seize the cold, we wait in pain,
For birdsong morning’s light again.

© SXT 2022

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I write stuff when something begs to me to write. The goal is to write ten-thousand things before I die. I tend to be morbid, reflective and personal.

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Stephen XT

I write stuff when something begs to me to write. The goal is to write ten-thousand things before I die. I tend to be morbid, reflective and personal.