Wednesday, January 7, 2015

January Poem

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How raw the edges of your sigh
How blue your roving tune
Where dusk is always standing by
To drink the afternoon

How frigid is your brooding gaze
How feeble is your sun
A labyrinth of silver glaze
Dazzles your tempest, hon

How stormy are your promises
How lonesome is your song
The offspring of your happiness
Ice-cold upon the tongue

How welcoming your blazing hearth
How fine its company
How sanguine your sweet-spiraled mirth
Above a cup of tea

How long and slow the books you bring
How soft and deep the chair
How easy is the beckoning
Of one-more-page affair

How lovely is your stinging name
How pleasant is your poem
For January stokes the flame
That brings our loved ones home

© Janet Martin

There's no place like home on cold winter nights!




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