cjheery

Winter. I waded through birch trees winter dead and whispering in the cold. The quiet loud in its announcement, echoed in dark corners I thought I had spoken out loud and requested the calm answer my presence. Tombstones, heavy with foreboding. Unmarked graves and secrets kept from nights with glow of fire and steam rising from tea. Candlelight dances and shadows stretch as a hand grasping those who enter the floor wood succumbing with step. A guest and a guest within speaking with languid speech and shallow of thought And thought capture and imprison Each day replacing the day before Day before no more days. NoExit cjh 2018.