The Lot
Each
leaf on the tree
every
branch a trusted friend
I
know this lot well
Every
little squirrel
chipper
morning companions
frolicking
joyful
All
of the creatures,
the
trees, the leaves, the branches—
I
belong right here
Winterlust
Oh,
how I miss the frigid kiss
of
winter upon my skin!
The
cold air, that wind in my hair,
a
chilling frost gets in.
To
hide from yet hold, that bitter cold
such
a crisp delight!
Lost
in a swarm of blankets so warm
near
a toasty fire’s light.
Oh,
that respite of a pure winter’s night,
the
beauty of fresh fallen snow!
No
one around, not even tracks on the ground—
desolation
as only I know.
They
come and they go, these falling snows—
they’re
a comfort to my mind.
Hard
to believe time passes and leaves—
even
snow is a slave to time.
You’ll
never know the lengths I would go
to
frolic once more the day!
Oh,
how I miss the frigid kiss
of
winters long gone away!
In My Soul
All
your leaves are rusty—
all
your branches dead.
Your
bark is cold and lonely,
I
deserve this fate instead.
The
icy chill,
this
frigid breeze.
You
bear it brittle—
this
bitter disease.
All
your leaves are gone,
all
your branches cracked.
Winter
is forever—
spring
is never coming back.
A
shattering frost,
an
unfathomable cold—
you
look on the outside
how
I feel in my soul.
Fade
I
watched you change
from
green to red,
yellow,
orange
and
then leaves shed.
Brown
and brittle,
these
branches dead.
The
chill in the air
is
already here,
of
a winter
growing
near.
I
watched you fall,
crisp
and clear.
Fall
from grace,
cold
and cracked.
Frost
sets in,
no
going back.
Fade
away—
then
fade to black.
Lyndon Avenue
The
leaves on Lyndon have fallen,
the
sky is turning grey,
winter
is coming early—
and
it means to stay.
The
rustling heard for miles,
a
lonely echo casts.
It
warns us to be wary—
this
winter is long to last.
The
chill is felt so deeply,
it
stirs within the bones—
we
feel it as they feel it,
not
felt by trees alone.
The
leaves on Lyndon have fallen,
not
only from the trees.
We
can feel it too,
they
fall from you and me.
Melyssa G. Sprott
Melyssa G. Sprott was in born Pittsburgh
and lives in Ashtabula Harbor of Northeastern Ohio, United States; she is a
writer, artist, and award-winning photographer, using many different means and
mediums of self-expression. Melyssa had an early desire for writing, having begun
composing poems and songs and spinning tales from before she was old enough to
hold a pencil. Her mother would transcribe her words for her. This young love
for poetry would grow into a burning wild fire. Poetry became a survival skill
to get her through hardships and a reminder that when the world—or even home
wasn’t a safe place—she could escape to the comfort of her pens and notebooks. Though
known as a “dark poet,” or one whose subjects are generally more morose topics,
her works should be viewed as more of a survival guide—if she can make it
through the hard times, so can you. Creativity is catharsis. She has written
and published over 10,000 poems so far over the course of her life, in thirteen
poetry collections and eleven children’s books in thirteen years, and has
contributed to numerous collaborative short horror collections, and countless
poetry anthologies. She spent several years as senior moderator at one of the
world’s largest online poetry forums as well as teaching poetry forms. She found
it quite a privilege to help instruct others on some of the many forms of
poetry, whether they had been novice or experienced poets, English speaking or
from outside the United States. Other credits included: Co-Managing Editor and
Staff Writer of the VoicesNet.com Literary Journal, Poet-in-Residence, and the
VoicesNet Hall of Fame. Physical art, cutting and manipulating paper and
texture is a current favorite activity—especially regarding paper roses, woven
paper art, and children’s book illustrating. When acting as photographer, she
enjoys capturing flora, fauna, insects, architecture, nature, and anything else
that might be of interest at that moment. She is employed as an Administrative
Assistant and the entire Art Department at a small non-profit. She and her
family volunteer at a local food pantry every week and very much enjoy helping
others.