Lasting longing, dripping like
honey from the spoon.
Falls cool air, and atmosphere
of dead leaves mark memories of good times gone.
Death embraced in hues of orange and red; and dusk
approaches.
Sparrows build their winter nests...and we watch
in the graying of the light.
We build our fire, indulging and relaxing in the warmth we create side by side, mouth to mouth...heart to heart.
Tell me you love me. It subsides the thought of tomorrow.
For winter is coming;
...and I've grown accustomed to understanding Winter is the season everything dies.
A contest entry
- sparrow by Saffron.
900 points, ended November 7, 2008, 17 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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"For winter is coming;
...and I've grown accustomed to understanding Winter is the season everything dies."
I like the last line of this, and how it sums up the sentiment of the poem--in fact, a big part of me entirely understands it...
This is lovely, really, and along with the last line, I do also admire the sense of longing here.
Thank you so much for entering this in the contest.
Saffron
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ouch on that last line. "Winter is the season everything dies." I like the wordage of it, though. "Lasting longing, dripping like honey from the spoon." Beautiful.
Winter is the season in which things die to grow. Does that make any sense?
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there is much to like in this, i love the thoughts of the last lines especially. if you trim this poem a bit closer to the bone, it could really shine.
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