With his icy fingers he stole my smokey breath,
laid a sheet of slippery freezing cold by my feet
and then whispered in my ear right to the drum
that echoed in my brain with excruciating pain.
She, his wife was of a complete different temperament
quietly without fuss she crafted blanched cotton flakes,
each a masterpiece, unique as if she retained every design
she had ever imagined so each time she could create anew.
He however with his bravado with his swelled chest
would pepper speeding glass-like pellets into the air.
Sting our faces without regret. Salt our wounds.
Mercilessly bite into our flesh with his frosted fangs.
Daintily she'd sprinkle the sky with the magic of her cheer
feather the atmosphere in a delicate splatter of alabaster.
Layer by layer she laid soft sheets of snow to the delight
of everyone alike creating a playground of endless mirth.
His breath reeked of dreams frozen, nipped in the bud.
Already he had high jacked his sisters, the Autumn twins
sent them packing, hurried, gathering their rustic garments.
He had no love of his siblings except his baby sister, Spring.
His wife loving and caring would temper his yearly onslaught.
She knew of his pain, deep, abandoned by his father Summer.
At times she'd blow slightly warmer air to provide respite for
us mere humans and allow the sun to warm our weary bones.
They would sit together and it was her would bring out
the albums of family photos view pictures of his mother.
Her smile like music would soothe his stone cold heart.
He loved, when she'd visit in the guise of an Indian Summer.
With his icy fingers he stole my smokey breath.
I felt her presence there to temper his harsh avail.
Winter had arrived but when they walked as one
this magnificent couple dressed in their royal winter whites,
without a second thought you would bow in front of their regal
stance, a sight to behold, one that encompassed the entire land.
Sponsor: Shadow Hamilton
Contest Name: Seasons
Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2015
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