Last Night

I see as the morning light peeks
Thru my room window---the almond tree,
That was once little robin's favorite hang out
Gently swaying, with silent laughter.
And, I notice the buds are blooming;
The wind is getting warmer;
The frozen snow on the terrace has melted;
Birds' song, now, is filling the air. Soon,
Angel's trumpet will be heard... to welcome
Anew the glorious sun; the sound
Of morn April bids winter cold---a lullaby.
I smell Mom's alabaster rose in the garden.
The earth has warmed. Again, the tares
On cracked pave ways are sprouting;
Spring's here; no need for a blanket, or a duvet.
My feet will stop blind-searching for
The Persian rug, every time I wake up
To a whistling pot, for a cup of coffee;
But still, I need you...especially the warmth
You have shared cheerfully, with me last night.





Poetry by Ernesto P. Santiago
Read 790 times
Written on 2007-02-20 at 18:18

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Individuality
Angel's trumpet or Angels' trumpets if you are meaning more than one.
Of morn April bids winter cold---a lullaby's. - lullaby's?
the tares - tears
a good start then it lost focus i thought.
2007-02-20