Winterend – a poem

Let me in to your lamentation,
The song of snowmelt in your sigh.
Spring rain falls soft on cherry blossom,
Early this year – or late for your epiphany.
An exhalation beautiful as blood,
Scenery washed by sunrise.

A time to mourn, a time to dance,
A time between the never and the now.

We were older then, and we forgot;
Our eyes half met, our fingers barely touched.
The river knows and keeps her secrets;
Small things survive
While others fade away.
The swallows will come soon.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s