A poem about winter

Branches bare before me
naked, trembling trees
cold is slithering around
to soon devour me
quiet isolation
nothing left to do
pulling blankets over me
I’ll wait til winter’s through

Writer. Poet. Speaker. Married to Michael, grandmother of 5. Author of 14 books, including Broken: A story of Abuse and Survival. AnnePeterson.com
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Writer. Poet. Speaker. Married to Michael, grandmother of 5. Author of 14 books, including Broken: A story of Abuse and Survival. AnnePeterson.com

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