Gentle Mirrored Coldness Poem by RoseAnn V. Shawiak
Gentle Mirrored Coldness
Everything that's living will eventually die in a
passion of death's insistence.
A gentle mirrored coldness, wrapping itself around
me as I lie in the intrepid solace of the past.
Coming into my own as everything living dies in
front of me in sleepless visions.
Rousted around by wagon trains of old, watching
through the lonely nights as coyotes wail their
tales of lonely terror to the midnight moon.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/5/2024 2:52:38 AM # 1.0.0.1119
