such breath is like lonely dream
a life that drifts in lily white
the air is cold but surely gleams
true beauty through the azure night
i watch it dance and grace my soul
with only the deepest intent
its mere appearance makes me whole
and thus i am far more content
the way it holds me when i veil
my eyes to ebb from autumn's heart
just takes my hand and never fails
as dear Jack Frost who bares such art
enhances almost everything
and thus i smile to see this truth
my inner self begins to sing
and still connects me to my youth
Author Notes: my favorite season happens to be winter.
Popular Posts
-
i see no way, no way, no way things as such could lie in me the words I often do convey reveal a mystery frail in tone to be exact ...
-
Deep in my mind that acts as my true sight I hide beneath the cloak of my daydreams While knowing only when I wish too bright The thing...
-
beyond grave sites that once called my name and eerie whispers had kept me so in direction of the very baring of a cross unveiled through ...
-
Tonight I reminisce, tonight I die Tonight I reminisce, tonight I die I walk with all my burdens on my back I do my best, oh Lord kn...
-
for you, the one whom i imperishably adore i bleed my heart, my soul, my every whim and by this verse, the beauty that i pour through d...
-
"The intimacy of divine intervention will blossom like a rose and bloom for every moment I kiss your heart with my soul" -f...
-
My belovéd I am within a void if not with the inspiration of your soul, without the very essence that is you. I have only recently discov...
-
B ehold! For such light shines deep within E motionally; the shades of their love so fair A nchored to the blanket of stars that do co...
-
T’was a love told on a single page By a man named Seth to his Marguerite That would help to escape her life one day And ...
-
Oh, in my past I've longed to bid adieu To seek the future out with open arms It seems to me that each turn is the clue For eve...

1 comment:
When I was a kid my mother would wake me in the morning to see the paintings left by Jack Frost.
I like this poem - it's nice to remember the things that make us feel content and happy.
Post a Comment