On a June night
Winter creeps into the room
like a gigantic personality,
foggy vapor rises
from the warm breaths around me
and blot out the windows.
The log fire in the distance
brings a atmosphere of tranquility
and the burning fire crackles
with sparks jumping like fireflies.
On the big sofa in the corner
you are almost dwarflike
and are bending over your guitar
while you are playing a melancholic tune.
The raindrops falling on the tin roof
are bring a own rhythm to the sad song
and under the blanket your toes wiggle
as if you are trying to keep to the beat.
My fingers draw hearts on one of the windows
as a outward action for a inward feeling
and there are thousands of unsaid words between the walls
but they are completely unnecessary
while your hands say
exactly what I want to hear.
Daleen Enslinstrydom's Other Poems
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