By M.E.G.
Icy claws prise my soul from its body,
scooped hollow dirty spoon
on the draining board,
an empty shell left to wander daily life.
Thunder clouds hang under
eyes of coal from Santa’s sack,
dark beginnings and endings bleed
into chapped skin
intersecting streams turn fingers
the faded colours of Winter’s rainbow.
This shell of bones and flesh
carries out it’s daily routine
as I watch from a distance,
floating fading!
a ghost risen to haunt another year.