Poetry

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"‘‘Twas the Season"" by harvestmoon66
Whispers softly guide me Silver conversation that twists and turns around my frame Hushing and soothing, just like my mother’s lullabies I try to open my eyes but the promise of something great if I wait keeps them shut I grasp and reach up, up, as high as my hand will go But it still fails to reach the attention of the whispers How badly I want to be there ** You awake with a start and let out a surprised cry. The room slowly comes into focus and you put a hand over your pounding green Xweetok heart. What did you dream? Not really sure what to do, you flop back into your pillows. The winter winds howl and nip at your window. You go to turn away and head back to bed. To your surprise, you curl tighter into your blankets and let out a muffled sob. The winds pick up, almost like they are matching your broken cries.

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