The trees are bare
The trees are bareWith a stillness in the air
The sky is out there somewhere
Above the sun shines as it always does.
Coldness grips me as it's always done,
It's not cool being diabetic when winter's here.
I shiver in anticipation of the coming spring,
When I can hear the cuckoo sing.
Poetry by Alan J Ripley
Written on 2026-02-12 at 15:34
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