Wednesday, February 3, 2010

Winter at the Window

I haven't seen you here for a while
on the edge of my windowsill with the wind at your heels
but tonight, tonight I was expecting you.
The small storm clouds were curling along the horizon
tinting themselves pink and red
dipping their grey fingers into the sun's hidden rouge
and making a mess of the skyline.
The tree has dropped it's last skeleton leaf
and the branches swing lonely against the shingles
tapping their own morse code out in the night
a hidden rhthym to the faraway forests
that stay green the whole solar circuit.
The stars too have been brighter
as the sun sent itself to bed they stole closer
sparkling one against each other
and throwing the darkness into disarray
laughing children with an old dog who stands
bewildered at their games but can only bark not bite.
All these things whispered to me
as I walked along the sullen streets.
the echos murmered through the halls of my home
sinking into the carpet with tired little sighs
to be roused again at the step of my slippered feet.
They whispered of secret things and shadows
and silent escapes across the starlit streets.

I haven't seen you here in a while
with your shadow stretched long against the tree
it leans so lazily across the snow
That it might never move again.
How lovingly the light falls on you
tangling itself up inside your curls
and laughing as it spills out of the dimple
that hides within your cheek like a blush
on spring's first rose before it dares to bloom.
I am not surprised by your hand
cold as it is
sliding across the long expanse of winter air
You take possession of my skin with one finger
its slight weight against my cheek
carving it's own small cradle in which to rest

I was waiting for you tonight.

Forever, is an awfully long time.




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