Winter is Warmer Than Summer if You Have Love

The permanent crease between his eyebrows told his whole life's story. With a helmet that was buckled tightly enough to hold in his thoughts, he stood next to a bicycle that had seen its best days years ago. If the eyes hold truth, then his was magnified by glasses fit only for a scholar. I wandered for a moment about his thought before we made eye contact. but he had nothing to hide. His lessons were written across his face like Michelangelo had painted them there himself. The pain was inviting and so we shared the weight of his world; past, present, but no future. "How many others are there," I asked with eyes like the Nile, "How many more must be silenced through poverty; why do you hide in such plain sight?" If no one can notice your pain on this train it s because they are blinded by their own. His attitude was silent like the forests that no longer live-- a dead heart thumping away its hours left among the cruel world that had broken it so many times over. The struggle that surrounded his body as if to create his own makeshift atmosphere had gone unnoticed by thousands of people, but not me. No. I would not allow this day to slip through my thoughts like boiling hot spaghetti in melted butter. Why do you refuse to smile? Is it because you are afraid of giving up your stress? The pain must be the only way you have left to know that you’re alive-- and for what? No ring, no mom, no kids, not enough food to eat. It must be God that you seek. Determined to live life as God has chosen it to be; you have submitted, tapped 6 times over, the referees have attempted to end the fight, but life has not yet finished ringing your soul dry. It must have been years since a tear left you eyes. You are a desert valley, barren and low, exposed to too much war, experienced in losing people. Sometimes, I wish that I could live like you-- alone for eternity with only my thoughts as company. Maybe you are a fallen angel. Maybe, you are my fallen angel because truth be told, I haven’t written a poem in over a month. You are a prophet in your own right. A God among people who ride the Metro-- silently waiting, helping only when asked, and inspiring those who look for you.



Wow! Loved this!


I am sort of new to the poetry scene so suggestions from such a great poet would be much appreciated by such a respected poet:)

Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.


If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741