I Love to Write Poetry

[b]BEAUTY EXISTS IN WINTER'S COLD GLARE[/b]

The forests stood tired, their branches spread bare.
The light of the world was snuffed by wild fate,
But beauty exists in Winter's cold glare.

The life that once ran 'mongst her eye's large stare
Was halted and hurled through cruel, pallid gates -
The forests stood tired, their branches spread bare.

The scenes that once played 'pon her silken hair
Were smothered 'neath Nature's delicate weight,
But beauty exists in Winter's cold glare.

The buds that once thrived are still blooming there
Above blackened leaves. On one lonesome date
The forests stood tired, their branches spread bare,

Yet could not decay the heart that we share,
Nor melt her mem'ry. Acceptance comes late,
But beauty exists in Winter's cold glare.

The blame rests with an Angel's ghostly dare
That reaved her soul - the precious, the ornate.
The forests stood tired, their branches spread bare,
But beauty exists in Winter's cold glare.

- © [i]PaperHeart, 2016[/i]