The steps I take are sinking into white.
The shrouded greenery a ghostly pale.
A vocal note, melodious and bright,
By gusty draft, no more a screech or wail.
Her lips, the color of a rose, appear
From whence her unconfined locks glide. Her eyes
Contain celestial allure. Austere
In mien describes her coronet's sheer guise.
Her gelid hand, a hue of blue, she lifts.
Our faces' rims connect. My soul she drains.
Her fingers, frozen igneous; they drift.
The shattered scenery, her figure wanes.
My languid body lays, engulfed in snow,
Cadaverous. To me, my soul forgo.
YOU ARE READING
Short Stories and Poems for the Impatient Reader
Short StoryA collection of short stories and poems, many of which I have written in English class or for my friend. All of the stories can be expanded upon, and I may do so and rewrite them later. If you are a reader that cannot dedicate themselves to a long f...
