Ivy shadows dancing
in the wind, dying
flapping of a ghostly
pidgeon’s wings…
A siren afar ripping through
the silence of the night,
a neighbour’s child giggle,
Do they realize it’s almost midnight?
Trying my best to warm
my hands on the last candle’s flickering
flame… But it is useless, my knuckles
are already whitened by the coldness.
I blow on them,
They stiffen…
I rub them a bit,
They start aching…
It is a fatality. Freezing fingers
just can’t sing.
Cyranny's Cove 
Makes me feel cold. Well done!
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I hope you are doing well. Your poetry is beautiful as ever, more please!🍁
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I hope, that you are feeling good, Cyranny ❤
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Reblogged this on Dream Big, Dream Often.
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Thank you Danny 🙂
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