Blow, Wind, Blow
Blow, wind, blow,
Swirl the leafs, high and low.
Scour the earth with icy breath,
Whispering tales of sleep and death.
Snap the branches, bend the trees,
Rattle windows, haunt the eaves.
Dark comes early, thick and fast,
Daylight’s grip will never last.
Frozen boots on silent streets,
No one laughs, no one meets.
Smoke curls upward, thin and pale,
Shadows stretch behind the veil.
Streetlamps flicker, faces hide,
Footsteps vanish, side by side.
The moon is cold, a hollow eye,
Watching stillness pass us by.
Blow, wind, blow,
Where no warmth or mercy goes.
Strip the world of sound and hue,
Leave it bare, and leave it true.
About the Creator
Marie381Uk
I've been writing poetry since the age of fourteen. With pen in hand, I wander through realms unseen. The pen holds power; ink reveals hidden thoughts. A poet may speak truth or weave a tale. You decide. Let pen and ink capture your mind❤️
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Comments (5)
This is a poem for a late November day and evening when the leaves are falling rampantly off the trees leaving them completely bare. Good job.
Captivating poem and outstanding writing skills
Beautiful
Wonderful! powerful use of words.
I love it! I was sucked in by the first few lines and the rest did not disappoint- great writing 🫶