© G. V. 08.23.2013 All rights reserved© G. V. 06.26.2012 All rights reserved(Iambic tetrameter)The poem is a rendition of an older one of mine, called "Pier Four"
The north winds blow on loners' date,
it's cold on fingertips and dark,
night's owls resemble souls that hark,
- we met in life, one verse too late.
The clouds are gray, soul's sermon clogs
alone I wait on rain's frontier,
and breathe this void - alive once Pier,
whereon you smiled at winter fogs.
And it is strange to feel you there,
you never left the winds' lone call;
I feel the flow in veins to haul,
a string of tales - nostalgic fare.
And you appear - a wraith in mind,
that distant smiles with lonely eyes,
gray clouds and snow from low hung skies,
- how doleful meet our dusks and twine!
The night ascribes - pure quilt of snow,
so much quietness falls and dearth,
regales the emptiness of earth
and solitude of our time's tow.
The nimbus moon won't spring to fore,
but if you show, my hope will shine,
a conferred love will wave to mine,
bloom scented winds will reach Pier Four.
© G. V. 08.23.2013 All rights reserved