Winter darkness.

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The frost seeps into my finger tips

as my mind tears open and rips.

Frost lays across the top of cars

the sky is looking less angrily dark.

I search for the moon for her haunting stare

to know for a second that she looks down and cares.

I search and look but the sky lays dark

apart from the lonely northern star.

What are the skies without the moon?

A darkness that envelopes to soon.

Karen Hayward (copyright) 2015. Image and words.