Winter Blossom

In the whitest winter snow,
on the darkest withered branch,
there grew,
a blossom as red as blood.

I paused and held my breath,
to behold this sight,
a miracle,
in the land of black and white.

With gentle loving hands,
I reached out to touch,
my fingers,
to the satin petals light.

On the whitest winter snow,
a blossom as red as blood,
dead at my touch,
lost forever to the night.


Words fly away on the white wings of a peaceful silence.
Dark storms are finally overcome by a colourful horizon.
A clear note rings in the quiet aftermath of chaotic destruction.

I exhale and my breath takes the hand of a winters breeze.
Dancing passed the brown and yellow leaves of yesterday.
A warm loving sun throws its arms around my shoulders.