my post (11) (3)

The moment has come and gone–Still, it persists
I have attempted to forget—I have tried to resist
The ice is calling me again
Its hushed voice never ends

That faint memory of death
Taken in slowly with each and every breath
The icy waters hold
With a warm embracing cold

I clawed for the surface if just for a moment
The depths pulled swiftly and tightly—I felt its aloneness
The thing I remember most about my last night
Was that sound that echoed from the cracking of the ice

It is winter as once before
And of this, you can be sure
If you go out late underneath the moonlight
You will hear me falling through the ice

About G.Edward Smith

A stranger in a strange land...
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