Foreign to a
Frozen tongue,
Memory
Of what was lost,
Way too young
Still,
There's always
A way back,
For however hard
The route here was
The race is not yet run.
Foreign to a
Frozen tongue,
Memory
Of what was lost,
Way too young
Still,
There's always
A way back,
For however hard
The route here was
The race is not yet run.
Bruises brushed softly,
Blue and white fluffy,
'cross winter's sky.
Sun-kissed frost-
Icing the earth's
Habitation-lined
Stone thigh.
We can hear
The breath of
New Year's promise,
Like last year's sigh.
Still biting
Wind, traces
A grin, un-chagrinned,
Happy, just to be alive.
Bruises brushed softly,
Blue and white fluffy,
'cross winter's sky.
Sun-kissed frost-
Icing the earth's
Habitation-lined
Stone thigh.
We can hear
The breath of
New Year's promise,
Like last year's sigh.
Still biting
Wind, traces
A grin, un-chagrinned,
Happy, just to be alive.