Wednesday, February 24, 2010

The Silent Chill Death

It's so very cold
In a house with no windows
In rooms with harsh overhead lights

Where socks do no good
And the winter seeps in through
The cracks in the walls, bleached white

The chilled ice sinks deep
Into fancies of sleepers
And burrows into ancient bones

And preys on the young
By plucking their tongues
Snatching voices where er' the wind blows