The Visitor
The wind to me at times, is a wild beast, howling in the night.
soaking up the warmth from a pale sun...
a visitor comes calling.
Sneaking through the window
Nosily riffling the pages of my open book
It feels my face...
probing it with icy skeletal fingers
nubbins of flesh raised against its chill caress
Its murmuring voice
whispers a song of death
as it races restlessly through my room
leaving scattered petals and ice rimed footprints
in every nook and cranny.
Against shuttered windows and barred doors
It howls its rage..
shrieking.. as it tears through the limbs
of the groaning creaking trees.
Furious frozen fists batter at the doors
Thwarted...
screaming its wintry discontent to the stygian skies
the anguished cries of the damned
pleading for release
shatter winters peace
Once spent..
it fades to an ominous rumble
a fading promise
written on the wind...
I'll be seeing you...
again
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