Comments (0) Issue 3, Poetry, Writing


By Keegan Eller


As the dark moon

Comes all too soon.

Shielding the sun

Winter has begun.


Her mind is ice,

Frozen in time.

Yet it does slice

Due to mistime.


The wind it blows

As if it knows

All her secrets.

Nights are sleepless.


The words spring from lips

And the snow it drips

From that which is guarded

Yet never half-hearted.

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