Saturday, February 14, 2015

My Love Embrace Thee

That we shall have,
by morrow's end.
Think of now
what will thou send?

'tis what you want?
Does it not ache,
upon you, my taunt?

I fester, and I beg,
you scowl and linger.
Neither one sorry,
barely lift a finger.

Eat of my heart,
my soul remains mine.
In the spring,
without me, you'll find.

Lag, lay wanderer,
smile at the turn.
Oft you encumber,
hence, but in an urn.

WLM 2/13/15

Sunday, February 8, 2015

I Should've Walked Away

Have you ever heard a cat trying to dig its way out from underneath a pile of snow? It is dark outside, the only light you see is the moonlight reflecting off of a white blanket. A soft wind blows, but other than that, the only thing you hear is a faint scratching sound.
You can almost sense each frozen bit of ice being dragged out from the pile, one by one. The trees hang overhead, barren, with long scrawny limbs that reach out towards you, beckoning you to come closer. You know somewhere in there, is where the sound is coming from.
It is so cold, it has been for days. You begin to wonder how long the furry little creature has been trapped out there. You know it has been almost five days since the last big snowfall. A gust of wind crawls up your back and down your collar, you shiver from the chill.
You wonder if you should grab a shovel and walk towards the sound, but it seems to be so deep in the woods that you fear you may never find her. Then you start to wonder if it is just the trees, making noise, blowing against the wind and scratching the icy surface with their claws.
You almost give up and decide to go back inside, but then you see it. The tiny tip of a small black paw, just barely peeking out through the snow. The snow must be two feet deep out there. There is no way something could have survived this long, and still be alive.
A low muffled moan echoes from the pile, you take a slight step back, but nod your head forward to try to see more clearly. A snowflake kisses your nose and you look up at the sky, it is starting to snow again. As you look back into the woods, you can now see an arm emerging from the pile.
That is not possible, you think, but then you see an ear. The scratching becomes louder and faster, and you can almost feel it against your skin, ripping, tearing, desperately trying to release itself from its frozen tomb.