No trouble in the air. The world is still
Suspended from the sky by threads of snow
Beyond the window pane. We stop at will
The hands on clocks, we turn the tides, they flow
Back, back…and wake our private universe,
And it starts spinning, spinning in reverse…
Until we feel the sun caress our skin,
Till “you” and “I” both cease, and “we” begin
And watch our winter slowly pass us by –
A shard of pain ‘tween her and our July.
Live for the Love of it,
Sasha A. Palmer (a.k.a. "Happy")
prompted by Poetic Asides
oh. oh-h-h-h! *spectacular! (and *that word feels harsh against this soft verse)
ReplyDeleteJanet, thank you so much.
ReplyDelete:)
ReplyDelete