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Poetry
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| Ice Age | |
| By amanda4uk | ||||||
| 08 January 2007 | ||||||
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It’s time for me to go now, Away from this place, this cold area, Sea gulls fly in from the water, The constantly bitter wind carries them along. Will I be rescued from this chair, Could I move from my window Where I watch the seasons change? I was numb, I didn’t feel it firmly and completely take grip, But now, looking down I see Crisp, dry wrinkled skin on my hands, My grinding bones ache, Gone are the days of warmth. Looking out from this ageing shell and down to the river, The warm flame of the morning sun dances, Bringing colours back into the weathered landscape. As the rich beam of light reaches my feet A shadow is cast, the blanket falls from my knees, A familiar iciness runs along my flesh. Still here, still here as always.
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