As feathers, the flakes fall
Backlit by a crescent moon
They melt
On my tongue
As I lie in cold wetness
I am teased
Seized, by the moment
Held captive by its spectacle
The singular sound I hear
Must be my shallow breathing
Involuntarily I sense
I trespass on this stage
It’s time to take my leave
Allow my blood to flow
Below the crunching underfoot
Are footsteps soon to be extinct
Category: Poetry