A miniature :>)

Footprints in the snow

He did not wake but rose from bed, as silent as the snow
already piling on the lane; his walk was soft and slow
yet purposeful; beneath the hedge the vixen watched him pass,
not knowing that he slept above the flattened earth and grass.

His morning carer found his footprints, tracked him on the lane
then turning through the churchyard gate, and all without his cane;
a dozen yards of treads remained, and then there were no more
the journey ended at the grave of his dear Elinor.

Poetry by Coo & Co The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 256 times
Written on 2019-02-04 at 19:59

dott Save as a bookmark (requires login)
dott Write a comment (requires login)
dott Send as email
dott Print text

Thomas DeFreitas The PoetBay support member heart!
Heart-rendingly beautiful. Simple, eloquent, accomplished.

This miniature poem is quite picturesque. I especially like the use of fourteneer, the iambic heptameter, with perfect rhymes.

josephus The PoetBay support member heart!
Simply, magnificently conceived and wrought. Your rhythm is impeccable and rhyme sublime! A joy to read and absorb!

Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Perfect in concept and execution!