The company of coming winter brings high definition
To old acquaintance, seasons breath deep
Of long forgotten places, harmony and clarity clock
The hours, too few for faces passing
The strange men who govern
Ten thousand feet above the broken graves of so many years ago,
They declare bitterness, marching
Across the vanishing lands of futures trailing moments,
But little do they see when life moves on, new, renewed,
What beauty is in the silver threads among leafless trees.
I watched as life moved,
She thought little of the consequences,
Was it time to float on our breeze?
Her chill was little more than that alone,
Cold fronts that stood up to no blast
Than the numb climb to reach her heart,
We embraced in front of burning embers,
The death of trees that stood for what they believed,
Truth of godly words
One hundred years before the pages they became,
All the colours reflected in her eyes,
By the malware of her stare.
“Would you have died with me?”
She exchanged my heart again.
Did I care?
How could I when soon the seasons refreshed
The lore of coming perfection, white hearts
Become the living embodiment of all that could be,
There was no shame in colder months and broken hearts,
Each gave life to New Years, each gave love to her,
And I held her close enjoying the moment,
Knowing it would soon end, enthralled,
But not entrapped…
Poem © Phen Weston 2014