It is some time deep night
Dead winter, cold
And that poor girl was barefoot
Once again, barefoot.
Why was she wandering alone,
Barefoot,
In the winter midnight paths?
That poor child in the snow.
She wandered in circles
Patterns painted with bare toes.
The trees towered like mountains
And fathers over her head.
Was the barefoot girl alone?
She was at least afraid, it seemed.
Her teeth were bared but
She did not howl at the moon.
Not looking for companionship,
Just a way to go back home
From that winter path
In the dead winter snow.
YOU ARE READING
Free Fall
PoetryA collection of Poetry. Everything from serious reflection to fleeting fancy.
