ice storm
winter rides through
on a white
white
horse
promising mud and wet
ever afters
i stand in the rain
and the cold
runs rivulets
down the hollowed out
hollow
of my back
arching
with forgotten
electricity
as i grow a mask
(transparent carapace)
made from sky and hours
and the fallen echo
sound
of grey hooves
.
.
.
February 16th, 2016 at 5:07 pm
Absolutely loved and enjoyed each of the images! Beautiful poem!
February 16th, 2016 at 8:41 pm
Wow!