wintering
ahhh, sweet winter mornings...the sweetest of mournings
comes out of your light lacking skies,
when words are unable
to put on the table
your beauty as seen by my eyes.
the wish for a sunbeam
removing my last dream
and teaching my hope how to glow,
the branch of a pine tree,
the taste of my sage tea,
the sound of my footsteps on snow.
the smoke growing idly
from chimneys, the widely
spread fields 'neath a silence so deep,
and waiting the quiver
of morning, the river
renounces its ice-covered sleep.
the dark slowly rising,
the ever surprising
reflections of dawn on your white,
the sunlight that blesses
your frosty caresses –
my skin's masochistic delight.
the only true anguish
is that i still languish
sometimes for the days of my green
whenever my old bones
feel more like some cold stones
because of your chilly routine.
my sweet dawns of yearning
for lost youth returning,
rush not into going away!
just pity a writer
whose tresses grow whiter
and whom words too little obey.
i'm old and i know it,
i know that i show it
the more in your presence of frost,
but sweet winter mornings,
the pain and the warnings
are nothing but part of the cost.
each life has its seasons,
each passage its reasons,
from spring unto summer and fall –
so now that you're here,
my winter so dear,
i love you the way i loved all.
Poetry by Lilly Negoi
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Written on 2014-01-05 at 10:58
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