The bitterness of winter chill

Clings to the windows pane

As I sit and ponder many thought

Of an existence lived in vain.

The barren plane of winters white

An ocean full of void

Carries forth on deafened ears

The words that go untold.

So, do not sing the songs of winters past

In its joyous jubilee

Or sing to me of magic

Gathered round an evergreen.

The listless bite of frozen hell

Extends the minds demise

For as I stare off once again

In my wonderland of blight.

Antony King 2018






5 thoughts on “My Wonderland

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