Ice-cold desolation washes over me as I see the sand, blowing in waves across the cracked, deserted tarmac. And icy fingers tug at my hair, tearing and tangling the once smooth facade, while a bolt of lightning rips through the black storm clouds rushing this way... a world transformed in the blink of an eye, gone are the sunny skies and the impression of summer, removed in an instant by the harsh force that's winter's grip on my heart.
...bitter the taste of wasted years
spent in a state of illusion,
craftily woven with marked intent,
promises windblown and broken.
picture: http://farm1.static.flickr.com/53/111719741_7fd9b161a9.jpg
