The earth blows arctic chill,
The wild wind with me still.
I feel the winter in my bones,
A season of black/white tones.
The cold departs as white breath,
As final and certain as our death.
My moods wonder around in town,
Alien strangers appear all around.
I may never see the Northern Lights,
Never behold those chill arctic sights.
I now know the true meaning of cold,
I now know the feeling of being old.
Winter wind has made me brave,
Peaceful snow will dust my grave.
CHILLY WRITE. SOME THINGS WE CAN'T AVOID...EVERYTHING AGES, CHANGES...GROWS OLD. BUT ISN'T IT WONDERFUL HOW 'HIS' LOVE ...WARMS? THANKS FOR SHARING. LOVE, BLESSINGS AND FAITH...JOYCE * HIS INSPIRATIONS
From that night waiting in the airport at Cairo with the windows open, I know that the desert can become like the Arctic at night.
But, based on the past couple of years, I realize that as the heart grows weaker and our veins become constricted we find ourselves easily chilled by even the slightest downturn in temperature or a draft that feels like the wind. No more will we go out lightly clad with rosy cheeks to face the cold and laugh.
We have not been really too cold except for last Wednesday, I wore layers and still froze my balls off, but to be honest I like the cold, but that was just too crazy, even for me...I know where you are coming from...-e-
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Love ya!
Jane
But, based on the past couple of years, I realize that as the heart grows weaker and our veins become constricted we find ourselves easily chilled by even the slightest downturn in temperature or a draft that feels like the wind. No more will we go out lightly clad with rosy cheeks to face the cold and laugh.
Ron