Now, the frozen winter days, the troglodyte's
Existence, dashing desperately from cave to cave
In quickly fading light. Now, the memories of her
And warmth, of strolling arm in arm, essentially
Oblivious to what brings tourists to Paris
(Pronounced without the "s") becoming dim
As 4:00 pm. She's still in France. I'm in
Nebraska. Winds sweep down from Canada
To tear my unprotected skin. How often does
She think of me? No doubt, not half so often
As I do of her when I'm in bed alone again,
And doomed stay so as I face these
Frozen winter days.

Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
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Written on 2017-12-04 at 16:49

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Sad. I like the sorrowful portrayal of winter.

Frozen Winter days and alone December Nights. Very nice read! thats why the blankets or quilts we use are called comforters! may be!
very nice read. let memories keep you warm!

Ashe The PoetBay support member heart!
December is the end of rhe rainy season so all is green and fresh. The ocean breeze blows unobstructed so the hair is always moving. No hairdresser to worry about! No Christmas trees or presents to buy, but a manger scene in the center of town and good things to eat. I strongly recommend all Christmas haters to travel south of the border and away from cities for the season. The ocean is perfect and the surfing is fun. Memories tend to stay in check.
Paris with an 's' I love it!

I feel your loneliness and angst.

My season in a nutshell

Brilliant write Sir