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Winter Choices
January 14, 2014
Soft whisper flew away
The sky was tainted with grey
As her footsteps crushed snow
Cold wind clutched her out of sight
Vain words are still with woe
Hands tremble, salty tears flow
Alone in the fierce night
Small, skinny, sick, left for dead
Blinded by the brutal white,
Yet wouldn’t go without a fight
Loved her still though she fled
A bird that could not remain
Could live, free from the chain
Of old age and of the pain
But peace will fall, come day
Carried by the sun’s soft ray
© Thomas W., Scituate, MA
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