Winter Day

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    Winter Day
    Here she sits
    Gazing out the window ...
    Snow covered trees... icy roads
    Radio says: Stay inside...
    So here she sits...
    Watching
    Waiting...
    Once an awhile a squirrel moves...
    Or deer picks its way across this frozen landscape
    Muted music plays in the background....
    Strains of violins, and sweet flutes
    The day crawls along... and she remembers
    Days of childhood....
    Time to reflect....to enjoy the pristine beauty

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    AMRON7 commented on Winter Day

    06-07-2009

    does not have enough punch for me. it reads like it is a poem but i wish it had stronger imagery too generic --xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
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    A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness. It finds the thought and the thought finds the words.

    Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.

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