SNOW PROSE

 

As I write my name in the snow

I wonder if you remember me

and I shine from warmth of unexpected love

I wonder how many others have

carved your name in oak trees

with knives like my own?

With sonnet-slumbering oaths

to the world, I ask not

what to do with the winter’s

edge on your voice, icicles

sparkling verbiage at me like

you know what it is to be mine!

Love is not about the Right of All

being stark raving mad. It is about

the rendering of music to the sound

of the thudding heart.

 

 

COPYRIGHT BRUCE E SAUNDERS 2017

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: