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rose14195Poems
In came I at the end of the storm Soaked through to the skin with icy rain I six or seven weeks old abandoned once again Too young to believe in the spoken eventuality of spring Of which the elders told mystically the unseen shifts would bring Too young to conceptualize the marsh grass dry, the blue skied sun ablaze in the sky Too young to believe in clouds of butterfly Driven forward by the simple wish not to die Came I to the door and mewling stood Until it opened and into gargantuan Heated arms lifted and I folded into them apparently for good Was I wise? When in I came Warmed in those flanneled human arms Dried with a towel from icy rain I lie on floors polished to a shining glow warm, clean and fed I see myself grow Outside the glass the wind howls The trees now iced and bare Would I have lived to test the mythic spring I know not that, know only this one thing That should the time actually come when All outside transforms to warm, scented green It will through 'pain' of clean impenetrable Glass by me, safe, ensconced, separated, Looking out from within - be not ever felt, yet ever seen
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Aug 30, 2014
Aug 30, 2014 at 9:29 PM UTC
In from the rain
In came I at the end of the storm Soaked through to the skin with icy rain I six or seven weeks old abandoned once again Too young to believe in the spoken eventuality of spring Of which the elders told mystically the unseen shifts would bring Too young to conceptualize the marsh grass dry, the blue skied sun ablaze in the sky Too young to believe in clouds of butterfly Driven forward by the simple wish not to die Came I to the door and mewling stood Until it opened and into gargantuan Heated arms lifted and I folded into them apparently for good Was I wise? When in I came Warmed in those flanneled human arms Dried with a towel from icy rain I lie on floors polished to a shining glow warm, clean and fed I see myself grow Outside the glass the wind howls The trees now iced and bare Would I have lived to test the mythic spring I know not that, know only this one thing That should the time actually come when All outside transforms to warm, scented green It will through 'pain' of clean impenetrable Glass by me, safe, ensconced, separated, Looking out from within - be not ever felt, yet ever seen
Written by
rose14195
Aug 30, 2014
Aug 30, 2014 at 9:29 PM UTC
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