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Winter

Rating: 5.0
A golden wreath of falling leaves
is curling from the fozen trees.
The winter blows and chills
the forest,
in winter deep all go to sleep.

Through banks and frozen walls
the trees bow,
with ribbens of sound;
creaking deep the forest resonates
with ghostly mist's,
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Winter
Sunday, January 22, 2017
Topic(s) of this poem: nature,winter
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COMMENTS
Jazib Kamalvi 29 July 2017
A nice poetic imagination, Shelton. Thank you very much,
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