I see a tundra filled with sparkling white.
I squint my eyes at it's dazzling allure.
And I wonder if it would be alright
If I were to hope to see it once more.
It is snow that causes swells in her chest
And her smile is what always stirs mine.
A flower at worst, an angel at best,
She stands, warm in winter, frozen in time.
Maybe one day I could summon the strength
To confess to her in the Winter heat
That one day we could, together, at length
Enjoy long moments where our eyes would meet.
And should I gaze upon her face again,
I would hope to feel snow upon my skin.
emotions are spoken in terms of temperature! Nice poem!
Hi William Blake Beckett, Wonderful sonnet, very nicely written about 'tundra'.
lovely poem...It is the warmth in us that keeps the spark of life alive...otherwise we are as good as dead...well done! Keep up the warmth and keep enlivening PH...
I have to say, the melancholy is dirge-like. The imminent demise of the Romantic beauty is astounding in such a young poet. Well-done. I'd like to read it again after a hard edit.
A love lost is a moment of endless sentiment! Your hidden recherché of instinct, has majestically intertwined with a moment of unforgettable imagination. Best wishes.
Congrats William. Loved those mesmerizing lines- - - Maybe one day I could summon the strength To confess to her in the Winter heat That one day we could, together, at length Enjoy long moments where our eyes would meet.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Warmth that is coming from this poem is great and nice. well done.