Friday, 9 November 2018

not without the love of this muse

not without the love of this muse

i have a date tonight under the snow light 
with a poem i locked eyes with
in my sleep
she is late and i hope she has not stood me up
because she looked like no other
here she comes 
in rhyme on time
i will make her mine
if she will have me 
with all my imperfections 
see how the light in swirling snow throws 
her shadow on this page of snow
i will trace around her 
with this twig of a pen 
and she can throw snowballs at
every cliché i trip over and
she will laugh and laugh at me
and with me as i stand up on the ice
and learn to skate around the grit words
and the thorns beneath the snow
and she will kiss my bare footfall blue
and massage the frostbite from my toes
and hand in hand we will skip through my poem
and play with the damsel flies above the water meadows
of the long and golden summers she saw
form the beginning in my eyes 
and i see now her teases were love’s dew
on the young shoots of an eternity
that was promised in my halting words
that are now sleeping under our tree
as the shy sun slowly sets
embarrassed at our union
in front of the whole world 
who will read these words 
where are we now
i ask you

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