Winter put his shoulder
To our door,
Nights are turning colder
More and more;
We are old–or older
Than before.
Poppied sleep and honeyed breath
Are an antidote for death.
If your fingers tingle
Hold them here:
Doom has drawn a single
Circle clear;
Lean to me and mingle
Fear with fear….
Poppied sleep and honeyed breath
Are an antidote for death.
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Comments
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I'm not sure I quite understood it, but I love how it flows, and I love the way it was worded. I didn't really get the adition of the italicized words, but it added to the ambiance and I liked it.
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wow, this is awesaome. i love it. great use of words and the flow of it is awesome. keep it up.
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That little italicized caption is a kewl addition to the writing. I liked it. Short, but to the point. I could deffinately feel the cold of winter, even though its about 75 right now. Awesome poem!!
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