Waxing poetic on thoughts, theory & the times
Yellow-faced dandelions push up
Obstinate to the cold that still hangs in air
That promises and serves frost still,
To dew drops and windowpanes,
Spring is here,
In an in-between, limbo of seasons,
Summer and winter, each hedging for the bigger presence,
This is the nature of the season,
Spring—mediator between hot and cold,
Light and dark
On this segment of the wheel of year,
All determined by the closeness
And felt warmth of one star.
It is cold,
And the rain trickles down the panes,
Whispering of winter still to come,
And I resist acknowledging the inevitable,
As if my denial of consent,
Will keep the seasonal clock
Right where it is.
11/1/2018
Autumn gently sweeps in,
With beauty and
The chill,
And so in awe
We bundle
And huddle close,
Reminded
To love,
For winter
Is about to set in
The light, the heat,
The electricity that generates
Our love,
The days grow longer and the sun closer,
But we more distant,
Distracted,
we forget we lose
Touch
with the genuine feeling,
Until we find it again
In the cold months,
And that love rebounds
Again, and again
and longs lasts into new summer heat
And withstand the slow death
Of the fall,
And rebirth from which we
Will spring,
But we will last,
Because our passion exploded
In the cold,
You are the snowman;
And I never created you,
I just gave you my heart,
and it brought you to life,
And you gave me your
Heart and soul,
And I was reborn,
And together
We made a
Love immortal.
She of Letters 