Author: Pondering Red
when the cold winds
come to stay.
Black birds fly in packs-
dance and swoop-
almost in rhythmn.
Sad when you think
the light of love is dimming.
Sad like weeping violas
in the bouree that
when the sounds
slide into an almost perfect mood.
Sadder still with
the fast approaching holidays.
Lights strung up-
festive warm colours-
reflections of the past,
flickering a niceness and sweetness.
Sad to think I cannot share my expression.
sad to feel you don't want to see
sad to see you don't want to feel
my creativity of thought,
My hands tremble at this reality.
Winters long white fingers
trying to clasp and wrap around
I want your presence
We are amazing people.
Sad that I do not feel this
in this moment.
The skys turned an almost black tinged blue.
Melancholy seeps and bursts into a crescendo.
Your icy glare
reflecting the warm lights-
is somehow not right.
- prelude to my liberation -
Comments on this poem/writing:
|Megan (126.96.36.199) -- Saturday, December 11 2004, 02:00 am|
I like this a lot. It has a lot of depth to it.
|RinRin (188.8.131.52) -- Tuesday, December 14 2004, 10:08 pm|
Very deep, Red. Very deep. I'm in love with it!
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Copyright©2017-1999 by Rebecca R. Hammack
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