Gateway to a Blizzard

Wind blows strong through gate
Grips all in icy blast.
Fine snow pours over lip of ridge
Moves endlessly and shifts like
The sands, the frozen sands of
A sunless sky, streaming through
Gaps and holes in the walls
To swirl round, over, under
Cold fingers curling round
My frozen wasteland of a heart.

Martin Delemare
2nd December 2004