Winter’s Hold

I see the appendage of a tree
Stripped bare

Like bones ravaged by natures scavengers

I see rock ancient

Towering and monumental

Grey synonymous with the old

I see death

Sadness and without hope

Like the faces of those looking out

The land is gripped in Winter’s hold

Cold and foreboding

All recoiling from her icy touch

Copyright: authorchrisbrown 

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