Season 'tis Thee
night skies turn gray like a cottony sea of lightmoon a nacreous pearl obscure
night fills a sleigh of stars like toys for whose delight
may sway the laden trees unsure,
loom like charcoal shadows drifting through dreams of frost
like priestesses murmuring prayers over seasons lost,
my eye, is like a depthless window
stuck out in the cold of trance twisted time
angels wrestling innuendo
snow worlds whirl, dancing winter pantomime
glass tints fill airy bubbles of champagne escape
sleep lives next door to the grave
relents the day awakens to morning red tape
presents all good children gave
Poetry by Chaucer Whethers
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Written on 2021-12-20 at 12:35
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