Cold Winds + Mortars

After midnight poetry. Stuff in my head.

Block the cold winds blowing from the north
Frozen in time mistakes keep you from moving forth
Like the heavy winds from the north
You stop and weap
Holding down a crumbling fort
Eight days a week
You carry regret like a torch
Reminder: time is short

After midnight poetry. Stuff in my head.

Open quarters
Small circles
Blown mortars
Follow orders
Closed borders
Such horror

All blurs
No cures
Blood pours
More tours
Four doors
His wars


© Delia Ross. 2020




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