Buried in the Snow
The Bacon Cat Legging Society
The Tips of my fingers
Are black and blue
From the earth, or the bite of the frost,
I couldn’t tell you.
I’ve been digging, and digging,
Instead of living,
Trying to find the earth,
Begging for a clue,
Or a word.
The avalanche came down so swiftly,
It covered everything,
So I was left digging holes,
Trying to find home,
In the freezing cold,
Alone.
The Artic wind became a friend,
She sung songs to me,
Of the cold lonely sea,
She says he’s not like me,
And my warmth,
But she can’t hold me in her arms.
So i keep digging holes,
Holding out hope,
That all i know,
Can me found and thawed
If I can find it -
Buried in the snow
About the Creator
Ellie Hoovs
Breathing life into the lost and broken. Writes to mend what fire couldn't destroy. Poetry stitched from ashes, longing, and stubborn hope.
My Poetry Collection DEMORTALIZING is out now!!!: https://a.co/d/5fqwmEb
Comments (1)
I'm so pleased to have stumbled across your work. I love your style and voice!