Climbing off the highest shelf,

crooning in dulcet tones,

she ground her bones

and built herself

the prettiest of tombs.


The song that sprang forth from her lips,

she was sure she’d never known:

an ode of sorts to all the ships

she’d seen but never flown.


(She’d caught his glimpse once before,

on a night half cold as this;

when the road was streaked with blood and gore,

and the fading promise of a painless bliss)


Oh, feel the brittle heartbeats

drown out the shaky breath.

as a half-forgotten sight it meets:

the cheeky grin of Death.



Yours Truly,


11 thoughts on “Winterchild

      1. I guess it’s too late to respond to this but I’ll take my chances. I’ve been away from blogging for a while. Was occupied in trying to balance life and not getting killed in the process. 😛 Decided to write something today after months. Would love to know your views.

        I hope you’re doing well too. Really miss reading your blog.

        Liked by 1 person

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