In dreams
I walk in furrows
of deep crusted snow
with you
where we once walked
in slow motion Autumn
among nodding twigs and leaves of many colors
before we started Winter fires
loving; the flames turning crackling logs
into silent gray ash
sweeter than all the songs
ever sung
caring not if Spring
would ever come;
and yet it did
larkspur and cornflowers
and now I sit in the Summer sun alone
warm winds blowing from the sea
no Autumn winds nor scent of larkspur;
no cornflowers comfort me.
.
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[ Smiles ] Beautiful poetry!
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A nice poem about loss, Frank. The cornflowers look poignant too.
Best wishes, Pete.
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Simply beautiful, Frank. One of your best . . .
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Sad, yet moving. Wonderful work! Thank you for sharing!
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