Creaking skeletal trees.
Wolves with kerosene eyes.

Ghosts crying in the walls
While winter slowly creeps behind me.

This internal battle is on the edge of dying dreams.

Life plays the dark symphony
The nights grow even longer, draped in the veils of wistful sorrow,
And a small dying hope for better days.

– Jacqueline Lente Poetry
– http://www.jacquelineannlente.wordpress.com