Renew this flesh of mine upon the heat of summer,

That my bones may be warm until winter’s end.

In the passion of a setting sun,

Let me ignite my soul that it may live on.

I cannot forget the pleasure of cool water,

As it courses across my worn and dried out feet.

Or drink in rolling rain storms,

Who’s bruised surfaces cry sweet relief upon aching brows.

Now is time for us to stretch out roots,

Intertwining our individuality to one.

Why might you ask should we?

So we may all survive the icy fingers of winter.

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Michael is a husband, father, writer, poet, and aspiring author. He finds time to scribble down his thoughts in the dead of night, between ghosts and night owls. If you’d like to read more of his poetry follow the link here. Or to visit his full blog, ‘The Ink Owl’ click here.