Spring

Spring

It takes so long to sneak in my heart,
what an ecstasy against solitude and sour winds.
The first colors, the melody of flowers,
there isn’t agony in the sway under the rain.

And you and I, dire souls in sunset flames,
between white rock-roses and swan feathers,
we honor the rebirth of our bodies.
Together we morn the death of frost and
névé,

To savor the warmth in a bed of coals
and entrust the last rays of candled light
with our desires and the taste of kismet.

And when the rainbows lead us to
the silent woods of reminiscences, the innocence
of our fairytale will only allure Spring to this poem.

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Drinking the silence in the woods

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© 2012  Broken Sparkles

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