Winters cold is upon us in the dark hours of existence. It swarms through on gentle breezes screaming of devastation. Will you warm me? Dreams caught in a time loop of repetition haunt my slumber. One minute feels like an hour, a night as a lifetime. Will you hold me? The whistle call of cold creeps across my skin, a reminder of the darkness and what winter can bring. Will you hold me. Will you?
Karen Hayward ©2016