' At Winter's Window '
The Wind caressed the Leaves, sending shivers down Their Spine
Floating to the Ground, to be together, one Last-Time
And Birds, who Flew – Not South –
Flapped in a Row, on Phone Lines
Gossiping … ‘bout Naked Bushes and Barren Berry-Vines
Sir Day… wore Gray, Charcoal-Ash and a Pale, Dull Pewter
Looking like an estranged, forlorn, forgotten Suitor
Whose Love had run away… to find another to Hold
Someone, not so Varicose-Veined, Vapored and So Very Cold…
So, the Suitor, stood at her Window; Pressed his Crestfallen Face
To show he bought her Pearls and Fragile… Virgin Lace…
His Tears, formed Icicles, on Her Window-Sill
‘Til His head, Hung Overcast; Sharp, Dark and Chilled
Then, He Touched my Window; I was too Frozen to Move
Tho’ He’d gone Below His Temperance
I could do Naught to Soothe
For such Cool-Fiery, made me Leery
To go and offer my Tepid Intervention
Thus, I sat at Winter’s Window…
Warm Inside with Condensation …
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