Tuesday, January 15, 2019

Winter Wind (or something like it)




He moans about the chimney-flue
And stokes a sudden flame within
They leap like shadows thin and blue
Like ballads from a violin
Where farewell feels like next of kin
And whispers keel and tug and woo
Upon the wave of dusky hue
That plays upon earth’s pallid skin

His kiss is cold and she is old
-er than she was, she knows full well
And no one told her of the smould-
-er that can fill dusk’s raven swell
With hugs that hurt too hard to spell
And all the words that would unfold
Get lost somewhere out in the cold
Like stars that sparked the dark and fell

© Janet Martin




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