Winter

The winter bites this morning
with chilling fingers
and there’s ice in the wind,
that blows through every thing.

The car is hot
and I am missing you,
while I drive alone
to work in the dark morning.

The car’s lights
cuts the path open,
but every thing is a lot more icy and cold
when you are gone

The drive let me realise
that I am not made,
to go through life’s winters
without you.

poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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