between the legs of autumn

between the legs of autumn

upon a winters urge

all the sorrows of the snows i used to know

the chilblain toes of the fire glows

firesnow i think it was called

that tiny pot that cured the pain

the waxy pot of mother’s secrets

snowball fights on glow black nights

with the beacon’s snow aglow far away 

tobogganing down the years

sitting behind myself 

hitting the depths of the day’s drifting

fingers stinging cold 

even after tea and toast

wrapped up in a bed

colder than the iced window

melting the hope of a frozen dream

maybe i will tomorrow