Klarissa

Winter's my favorite season
I like the cold, I like the warmth
I immerse in a hopeless glass 
of whiskey by the hearth.
This year I found all of me 
beneath the comfort of her hold.
Winter spares no empty bough
never thought it could get so old.
My favorite season winter remains
not longer than two months
I wish... I wish... I wish again
we could sit joking the world outside
O I wish the tides change course
and we could set out patterns
on this spilt milk.
The years that have gone hang around
my sweet place will come once again
I dream... I dream... I dream we
may never sleep bleak again.
Winter is the taste in warmth
but I may never write it a poem.
So long... so long my dear friend
I'm right here with nowhere to go.
The moon appears faithful tonight
in rings of smoke clouds encircle it.
O all it's dark spots are well hidden
waiting for you to add dye to my time.
May my beliefs never change I thought
they twist my gut fruiting into milkiness.
I am who I never thought I was
energy wrapped in cloth: a name 
already dead.
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2 thoughts on “Klarissa

  1. Mike

    A lovely lament with some brilliant imagery – feeling the dual warmth of ‘whiskey at the hearth’ provided me with a pleasant glow of contentment. Very nice work.

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