frosted glass Ivor Steven

Frosted Glass

August 9, 2017 // 14 Comments

  Looking through my frosted glazing. A winters Sunday morn. The piercing coldness, so bitter. A wind like razor blades. And my somber music plays. The slivering venetian blinds, so bland. Hiding little of the external Arctic chill. A frozen sparrow lays on the sill, Ready to fall, on dirt, so [Click Here & Be Scared!]