Sunday, November 6, 2016

FICKLE FROST (c) By Polly Guerin

Aroma of Plum Blossom comes from cold and frigid frost and snow
Must the frost of winter come so soon?
August left behind was still in bloom

Summer's languid days were the best
Gave us time to ponder, time to rest

Yet winter snaps her fickle frigid finger
We rush home, we do not linger

Ensconced in the cocoon warm of our abode
We curl up in cozy fleeces to beat the cold

And confined here by the fickle frost
Alas, what care I, if a times I get lost

In winter's lounging longing nights
Seeking silent sentiment until the light

When daybreak casts its golden hue
Over the mysterious brooding brew

And awakens our solemn silent slumber
A new day breaks with wakeful wonderr!!!

No comments:

Post a Comment