Your loss is no more winter to my heart
than first snows brushed against unfrosted panes.
It will last no longer than those days that start
and end with unfilled plates and gnawing pains.
It is no paler than the saltless streets,
no colder than the peasant's mittless finger,
yet I am sure that when the icy sheets
are pulled away, this cold will not just linger.
The earth can only take so many winters
and only as long as there stays hope for birth;
here, even the seeds are torn to frigid splinters
and the rivers freeze too dry to melt. The earth
may wear false greens and masquerade as Spring.
The thrush may come, but with no song to sing.
What did you think? Anything I can improve on?
Comments
-
Outstanding
I loved reading this. You have written a strong sonnet with great flow and some fine images. The last couplet is inspired and filled with the sadness that radiates throughout this poem. I liked how you drew images in my mind and kept building on them throughout the poem. Fantastic to read.
-
An interesting lament and very nicely done. Welcome to Allpoetry and happy trails.
-
-
I tend to write my best poems during this time of year.
Thank you for commenting.
-
Adding your comment:
