Firstly, I'd like to cast my unworthy eye over the poem Kristina mentioned:
"Hollowed out footsteps tell a tale the best
Tracks crunched in the snow will help show you the rest
The colder the air the more bitter the bite
I'm in pleasant company when there's no ones in sight
And the dead air nips, and I know how it stings
But this void's the only way to wrap my mind around things
I thank you, my only friend, December's cold weather
Your cold shoulder helps me to keep it together
There's an akward comfort in always being alone
Whispered to me are floorbaords as they creak and moan
So now I'll settle into the vast and growing silence
My only comfort is knowing the coldest footsteps are behind us"
Superlatives fail me whilst trying to appraise this piece of heart-renting art
, Ezekiel. You have a gift for vivid description; and an ability to draw
the reader into your poignant style of writing.
The forlorn, almost pitiable way you manifest your deep desire for solitude ; the way you appear to yearn for the cold yet comforting embrace of this 'other place' that offers you succour - so delicately conveyed and so eloquently written.
Might I ask, what inspired this?