- Non-Erotic Poetry
- Cold Eyes of Winter
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Walking beneath the air of the Artic,
Listening to the quiet sounds of the birds,
Humming as they sleep.
The last leaves finally float upon the wind,
Prying for the last shelter of Mother earth.
Resting upon a high hill of valleys,
Is the Sun,
Burning softlier than the raging summer.
Passing by the ocean as the crystals break against the sand,
Wanting comfort from its warm, salt chemistry.
Stepping onto the water and watching,
...As the ice of winter forms beneath me.
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