Gert Strydom

Gold Star - 14,971 Points (03 April 1964 / Johannesburg, South Africa)

The Cold - Poem by Gert Strydom

Black frost fall killing, chilling
plants and grass to death
while a tiny sickle moon
watches flimsy
and there's iciness
to the wind
which cries around the corners of the house

and through French windows
the chill creeps in
like a unwelcome visitor
and tonight I am really sure
that it is winter.

Topic(s) of this poem: coldness

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Poem Submitted: Monday, July 24, 2017

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