gusty winds

Listening to the gusty wind, driving on the white snow,
I felt I was lying in the oak closet, fumed by the flavor
The fir bought sound I shut my ears to the whispers of snows
Though cold as warm words hug I choose silence over it..

Ran swiftly out of the closet, in the own fun dome
the pull was strong then the push, I saw a glittering hook,
I observed I screamed I stood and I ran again I shall not stop,
I muttered knocked my knuckles and I fringed

Lending my hand to find an importunate branch to lend on
I lost my palm in the grasp of cold fingers, freezed was my blood,
The warmth inside froze and I lay mesmerized ,yet alive
Was it all an end or the lady luck;s charm so cold in the begin..

A voice came from within to the face it lit it
Let it in let it in, was in a fist not fiddle of thoughts
all the way from the unsullied wine garden spilled over the stairs,
the cold fingers clasped over the veins of hot blood, hard

seems like a fury of fire on the snow fall,
was too reluctant, too naïve to the nascent feelings of nerd
the mist and the blaze all alone stood by the internal flame,
like the bud and the throne, waited to depart rather to hold on thunder,

such was the clasp I was left for grasp of the breath from each
the reality of the flame in the snow is bound to die its own freeze
got over the coldness of the cold snow ball building over the lane
the gusty wind was around again but seems coming from dry land.