Ending Sadness

What Winter Took

0214.2025

—my heart whispers

in the darkness—

The words are

phantoms in

the deep pitch,

and fade with

the rise and

fall of breath.

Outside my

window, the

rain dries slow,

and flowers

died some weeks

ago by

Winter‘s hand.

Now the day’s

stone is on

me like a

Gravity —

It’s best to

think soon spring

will give birth.

m.c.f