Roses is My Language, & so is Snow
when you let someone
tiptoes into your life,
like a cat, in April,
and leaves a timid foot print
soon covered, and disappeared
by a sudden ice storm---
in May;
the garden path is empty,
welcome you with a numbing chill,
you meet your fate's
familiar wink,
& its conventional pathos
beckoning for another play
on your un-learned heart
roses is my language
and so is snow--
until you know how to
write winter off
and mail it out
on a postcard....
the rose petals stay
frozen, brittle and shattered
bleeding red on
clinical
white
snow
052610WWLIN
© all right reserved
tiptoes into your life,
like a cat, in April,
and leaves a timid foot print
soon covered, and disappeared
by a sudden ice storm---
in May;
the garden path is empty,
welcome you with a numbing chill,
you meet your fate's
familiar wink,
& its conventional pathos
beckoning for another play
on your un-learned heart
roses is my language
and so is snow--
until you know how to
write winter off
and mail it out
on a postcard....
the rose petals stay
frozen, brittle and shattered
bleeding red on
clinical
white
snow
052610WWLIN
© all right reserved
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