Wintertime

For the world is hollow and I have touched the sky, the jaded glance you throw me crumbles into cinders, as the fallen leaf slowly leaks its amber light and hustles in a new beginning to the frosty clouded paling of some symmetry dawn, a silent winter’s eve. Mountains curl into shadows of a former glory, as the golden strands you shred breathe life into the dim dark December days I cast upon the rocky shore, glinting in the husky moonlight and sharing the whisper of my thoughts that haunt your every prayer. Winsome and wistful, I set out along the path alone, sucking in the cool air as it burns my face, licking fire across deep lashes, singing antiquated, hopeless and afraid. Greeting oblivion with a cheerful visage, slanting along the star-spun fingers I used to own, poorly timed though it was, at least it was something to hold close to my soul. But now my soul is broken, the track never ends, and at the end is my own face staring at me in the mirror, trying to make sense of a harsh winter’s day, and the hollow world around.