Tuesday, February 18, 2014


I tried to imagine you
The way you used to be
But it seems you have disappeared
Beneath Time’s tempest sea

I know that we will meet again
To lean against the gate
To watch the paling deep of dark
And dawn amalgamate

The budded bloom is primed to fill
And thrill our meeting-ground
How is it that the hours rush
And spill without a sound?

…long, long it seems we bear and bide
Time’s surging under-tow
To touch those places that we love
And lost so long ago

The no return of season-tides
And tempests test the heart
Sweet, sweeter is love’s meeting-hour
When we have been apart

© Janet Martin

When I look at the winter-locked garden I try to recall the scent of freshly-turned soil, buds barely breaking, dew at dawn...it sort of feels like a dream!

1 comment:

  1. But as the seasonal cycle changes soon the ice will meet and spring usher....


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