Freezing To Death

Freezing To Death

The skyline's growing grayer
and night is filled with fear.
I better say a prayer
for Death is looming near.

Never, will I make it back,
this trip was never planned.
No one hears my rifle crack,
I've got to make a stand.

There is nothing for a fire,
both wood and matches wet.
The situation's dire,
bout' as bad as it can get.

The cold north wind is blowing
and the frost is sinking in.
I really should be going
but the frostbite wants to win.

With a moustache made of ice
and fingers growing numb,
I should have heeded good advice
and never should have come.

My feet are feeling funny,
almost like they are asleep.
I'm dreaming warm and sunny
as the cold sinks in so deep.

I know that I'll be leaving here
but I need to get some rest,
I'll nap until my mind is clear;
I'm glad I'm warmly dressed.

© Copyright 2007 T.L.Finch (UN: t.l.finch at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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