Just write

In a view to actually writing this story and realising that to be a writer, I have to write, I've been doing some writing. It's mostly poems, free verse and rhyming verse inspired by snow, my first panic attack in months and other things. Let me know what you think!

Snow

Arriving delicately, gently, stealthily

It quietly covers the land, instilling hush

Feet powder through, leaving dark marks

marring the pure white and corrupting the purity

But the snow is relentless, pinpricking skin,

hiding the sins of dirt, rubbish and decay

It allows us a carte blanche we don’t deserve

Snow is the ultimate femme fatale,

all beauty and light yet bringing danger

It departs gradually or suddenly without warning

until not a trace can be found, like it was never there

Away without a backward glance

Caring not for the consequences

Leaving us with the chaos that is left in its wake 

Ice

Snow turns to ice if time is on its side

Where snow is a cool blanket, a white carpet,

Softening and veiling and concealing

Ice is transparent, a see-through wall

blocking you from what it is beneath

Where snow is a femme fatale

Ice is a plain, cold attempted killer

Grey and black and a clear and present danger

Shining with contempt and glittery in the light

It takes away solidity and complacence

Replacing it with pure uncertainty

Wheels slide, feet slip and paws skitter

Causing embarrassment and pain

Or potentially something more permanent

A Light Touch

A brush of the hand

One finger on the pulse

A toe in the water

A step instead of a foot

An inch instead of a mile

A hop instead of a leap

A rock instead of a shoulder

An anchor instead of a weight

A burden instead of a gift

A grip on the arm

A grip on reality

A grip on love

Holding something tangible

Holding on for dear life

Holding on to you

First grey hairs

The metallic sheen of copper tones is now laced with precious silver, in sharp relief against the dark brown. The first may have been cruelly untimely wrenched from their roots, but when they became more of a battalion than lone soldiers, entrenching in enemy territory until they could no longer be avoided, they were embraced like liberators. These grey strands are not a sign of a person on the wane, a gradual downfall, nor an ebbing of the tide, but a symbol of growing proof that anything can be survived with the right support, stubbornness and belief. They are strings of hard won battles and hard time done over many years, earned through pain, determination and resilience. They are a mark that you have lived and continue to live, reaching a time you thought you may not live to see.

Small Victories

When nothing you do seems to matter
When nothing you do seems to stick
When your thoughts scream and scatter
When your life goes by so quick
It is easy to see only the wrong
It is easy to see only the bad
Rather than seeing where you're strong
Rather than seeing what makes you glad

So a drift in focus, a forgotten task
A brief relapse and a bad night
Become something important in which to bask
An excuse to give in and give up the fight
Yes they are awful at the time
Yes they hurt those around you
They make the hill harder to climb
They make the day harder to get through

But each time they happen you learn
But each time they happen others see
You learn who can help, where to turn
Others see a glimpse of you, how to be
One step forward two steps back
Is still a positive, still means hope
So be kind to yourself, give yourself some slack
Because you know you and you know how to cope

You just may not see it right now
You will make it, get through somehow
Small victories are for the best, so take a bow