‘Twas a winter of many a season,
of not much reason, just living.
Just sailing on top of the world,
that’s how we were.
‘Twas a city snow-swaddled, and maybe –
our first born baby – a glimpse of.
The new love, not much to forgive,
and all to give.
‘Twas the time of a silver voice soaring,
long miles before the storm happened
and troubled the water at will.
We’re happy still.
Live for the Love of it,
Sasha A. Palmer (a.k.a. "Happy")
prompted by Poetic Asides