Saturday, February 7, 2015

Waiting, like a Woman





Perplex the wall-clock that hangs in the sky
Render to winter a warm lullaby
Time is a troubadour teasing with hours
What none hasten; the journey of flowers

Darling, the weather of roses still-waits
Tether the gale that blows cold on gold gates
Then hold me closer; because, after all
Summer is simply the prelude to fall

Seasons are time-petals, soon, soon they waft
White, green or purple in cradles aloft
Gossamer free-fall, life’s brave bittersweet
Soft like snow-madrigals, melts at our feet

We will not hurry what we cannot keep
Then let that wall-clock spill ill-will, knee-deep
Then, let those wily winds fiddle and fuss
Love knows no season but one, darling; us

© Janet Martin


On one hand I find myself saying, ‘hurry up winter’ and then suddenly, on the other hand I’m pleading, ‘time slow down, you pass too fast!’

4 comments:

  1. Simply perfect. What a treat.
    Thank you, Janet.

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  2. Janet, thank you for visiting my blog! Lovely poem, especially love the last line. I am also guilty of trying to hurry up time then lamenting that it passes too quickly. We need to slow down and savor life.

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    Replies
    1. Hi Linda, thank-you for dropping by.

      I think as time passes slowly the awareness of its haste stirs us to open wide and taste:)

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Thank you always for your visit and your thoughts.