Poetry

Poem: Winter Never Dies

By: Kharis Lund

winter_depression

The dead brown grass resurrects itself
The trees no longer stand like sterile skeletons
The flowers rouse themselves in blooms of color
And the sun comes out of hiding, brighter than ever
But nature lied to her
Her heart no longer pumps with blood
And her soul emaciated
For her, winter is the only thing that never dies

 

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