Icy Wind

A narrative sonnet

Icy Wind

Why I’ve stopped I do not know,

Far from sight or thing to hear.

Perhaps to get water from a stream’s flow,

But no sound of water hits my ear.

An icy wind envelopes me,

Closer I pull my fur coat.

Maybe I’m here to be free,

But the cold is now in my throat.

Now all I feel is  a numbing pain,

I could just turn back to where I came.

Where the work is done in lock and chain.

Where those who slack are punished by fire’s flame.

It’s too late now, the cold has secured its grip,

But this icy grave is far better than facing the whip...

Author's Note

hey, just tell me what you thought