Bonnie Jennings Poet Free verse

Wintery Prisms

It’s an antique brass urn
Now the coldest day at noon
And the crystals snowflakes gather
There is a prism in my room
It's chilling, in here, I noticed, picking up your urn
Speechless, I stood, having nothing to say
In quietness, from my eye, as I began to turn
A white feather floated, lingering in a sun-ray
Dangling freely in the air, it looked, if to loom
Are you here? I sober, on this icy frozen day
In the silence, now hearing a specific tune
The one you so loved to hum and pray
That feather came to rest upon my lonely pillow
Is this a sign, I then asked, did you come to lay?
Outside blows the bare branches of a Willow
“Yes, once we were, lets be forever, if we may.“
It’s an antique brass urn
Now the coldest day at noon
And the crystals snowflakes gather
There is a prism in my room
 
©2015
Perhaps a visitation from a departed love one © 8 minutes ago, bonnie jennings    spiritual • death

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Francis Osho June 12, 2016 at 1:24 AM different. u r an original. standing out from d usual crowd. occult science mythology . u lov creating . dont you? Bonnie Jennings June 12, 2016 at 6:44 AM Francis, you are keen in your observations. Yes, to all; however, my basis of belief lies in my lord, Jesus Christ... I write novels (only one wit an editor now) of mystical Christianity. My desire is to take people out of their boxes of legalistic thinking. The best way to do that is in poetry. Thank you for your observations... I do so much appreciate your comments.