A brilliant silhouette of leaves,
against the turquoise sky,
falls swiftly into Winter;
her icy fingers crumbling hopes to dust.
Once crisp and green,
lush forests are bare.
Each fragile soul of sunlight,
dies suddenly in this darkness.
Only remnants of feeling,
lie scattered on seas of white.
And even these will melt away,
vanishing in the tiny crystals.
hopes to dust" Keep up the good work!
Always,
Deborah
Wintry Prisms
Vickie
Namaste
Tony
Regis