Friday, April 9, 2010

April Wind

Tonight her voice is low and cold
She moans outside my door
Her breath that flows with flecks of gold
Has found another shore
Tonight she sings a sullen tune
With chilling arms of white
She garbs the sun-bathed hills of noon
In melancholy light

Tonight her breeze of mellow tones
Turns icy as she speaks
She lashes out against the stones
Which grace the winding creeks
She sweeps into the hollow cave
And mocks the naked willow
She blows across the lonely grave
And broods above my pillow

Tonight I do not fight her chill
Her low perpetual moan
Tonight I’ll dance with her until
My feet are cold as stone
Tonight, though I would choose a song
Of warm dew-laden sighs
I know it won’t be very long
Before her music dies

Tonight she laughs with eyes half-shut
Yet I am not encumbered
She flaunts her frosty garments but
I know her days are numbered
April wind, I’ve learned a truth
As I observe your candor
You are fleeting as my youth
Wasted breaths of grandeur

All Rights Reserved
Janet Martin

I have to confess,
her chill and her snow
are a little hard to take
compared to the warmth
of a week ago!!!!

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Thank-you for stopping by my porch! I hope you were blessed by the visit! I welcome and appreciate, if thought you care to speak; the value and the input of compliment or critique