The wind howls and rushes through the trees
I am cold. Inside, yet so cold.
Winter creeps upon us quietly and unseen.
I am waiting. I don't know what for.
Perhaps another day
that will fade away,
like countless before.
The leaves shake with the unseen force.
I shiver as the first snows float
down like little balls of cotton-wool.
The fire roars
and I snuggle closer to it
So, so cold. Waiting.
Nothing to do but wait for Spring.
79/88
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem