A Chilling Frost
Better than me—
My arms aching,
So empty
A scent, a smile,
A memory
Scrapes through my heart
As a stray autumn leaf.
I remember that day
The wind was high
A river of leaves
Coursing by
We laughed as your hair
Tossed on the breeze
Began to dance
With fluttering leaves
Our garden of dreams
Fate chose to scant;
Replaced our flowers
With bitter plants
The plans we made and
Our brightest promise
Dark from frost
Reaped a bitter harvest
But even then
Through wind and cold
I knew we’d last
Until we grew old
And continue on
Despite the odds
And stand firm against
A chilling frost.
Son las etapas de la vida casi como las estaciones del año, @johnjgeddes. Un famoso poeta venezolano, Andrés Eloy Blanco, decía en uno de sus poemas: "porque te sobraban flores para reírte de la primavera." La primavera es fácil. Los inviernos son los más difíciles de padecer. En caso del poema, la voz poética nos habla de una relación no tan perfecta, con vacíos y ausencias, pero aún así se sigue apostando a la convivencia y al encuentro. Es viernes y abril, un abrazo.
Es viernes y abril, pero está cayendo una ligera nevada; pero accedo a tu abrazo, mi amigo :)
I found this phrase breathtaking.
😄😇😄
nope...ye olde typo - Thanks, my friend :)
Happy to look out for you, John... :D
Very lovely write. I am sure Deb loved it:0
I hope so - Thanks, Pryde :)
A quite chilling out!
Nice poem
thank you!
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Just wonderful, John. The landscape so frigid, but the sentiments and expressions so warming. Just the right amount of contrast :)