Winter’s Morn
D
David Harris
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Feeling the sting of winter’s whip
and the taste of salt in my throat,
I walk the desolate beach
with only the cry of gulls
for my only company.
Winter strikes no harmony
with its bleak frown
as my eyes revel
at only wind swept litter
from happier sunny days.
The grey has replaced the bright;
warmth has relinquished to shiver
as I walk along alone
on this a winter’s morn.
12 February 2011
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