Evergreen

Winds whistle
through old-growth timber;
the scent of pine
comforts me as I laze on a bed
of needles, dreaming.

He walks alongside the riverbank,
parallel paths soon to intersect.
I cannot stop him.
He knows this, steps into
glacial waters that show no mercy.

I wake, no screams, no tears;
only the whistling remains.
Over the pines
his spirit glides,
evergreen.

 

Copyright © 2012 by Christopher Chaffin – All rights reserved

Advertisements

About cjchaffin

Wordsmithing is my passion. I eat, sleep, and breathe words and phrases, only to regurgitate them and pray that they are better off than when I first ingested them.
This entry was posted in poetry and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s