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Immersing the Reader Via Imagery Part 2 workshop

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Predator: imagery workshop

i seek new moons mirrored in a blood-filled bog
fog, thick and thirsty, encloses the woods
where new roses shrivel and wither to black
then back again in spring white, red and pink
new petals to be plucked by the hand of the dead
even the fog yearns to be tinged red
no white now and pink has gone
to feed in the land where dead hearts carry on
the petals once open never ended their quest
to be blessed with maturity and fertility
and tender young thorns cannot protect
a flower's sweet virginity

in a forest near as still as death
as i walk beside a frozen bog
the first month of the new year
when heavy frosts greet every day
brings memories from far away
where i sit to rest a while
after hiking a mere quarter mile
how many winters have i left
both behind and yet to come
one day i'll leave these woods bereft
then head back to where i had begun

my version:

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