November
When the air is chill and thrashing,
and the snow is thick and dashing,
and the breath of strangers fills the air
in puffs of vapor flashing,
That's when I turn down deep inside,
and find again the spark we hide,
when we forget for a time that we
were never meant to scorn and chide.
Such radiant power—can you see?
The glow of a fire on your face so free,
and gathered all around are those
you will love eternally.
You cannot live on the promise of death,
life itself is the source of your breath.
29 November 2016
Copyright © J. I. Thomas F. | Year Posted 2016
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