If in summer
As I walk by
I can run my hand lightly
Along the tall spike
Covered with small flowers,
Releasing the sunny scent
Into soft air; it
Clings and lingers on my fingers.
Today I shuffled by
On ice-crusted sidewalk,
To find pale leaves buried
In last night's snow,
Bracts stiffened, color gone;
My gloved hand reached out--
To grasp only the faint memory
Of fallen flowers.
Saturday, December 20, 2008
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment