The deficit of tears is being repaid
(a book and I in struggle far from end)
the bedrock of all days is being relaid
(though she is neither lover now nor friend).
The gold, the bronze, the copper, brush and wire
in deep November splash their best display,
slow-littering trails to winter's gateway pyre
in autumn's grate blaze up, spark-shower and fray.
Of troubled love I spell an ancient tale,
though seasons spill me out upon the way,
(this is the moment she moved in with me)
of beauty that must flame in time and stray
the pastel zenith of futurity -
bright leaves melting candid from a tree.
.........
YOU ARE READING
Winter Trails
PoetryWinter Trails is an album of my poems, journeying through late fall when the wire of the trees begins to dominate, till the end of January. After promoting it and it soaring to three quarter million reads, Wattpad unceremoniously dumped it. Here it...
