Winter Day And Space (From, Dried Flowers) Poem by Peter S. Quinn

Winter day and space of the urban earth,
Where the river starts its flowing in spring;
Like seeds ideas come forth into new birth,
Though old ones are there still worthy to sing.
With your hand in mine I will walk again,
Searching down the road for other pathways;
Age is like a mirror tracking your yen,
Through the passive feelings with a rephrase.
Through the currant bushes in our lone veins,
Boredom is too easy to be tauten;
Nothing on this drifting makes ascertains,
Like the pictures in clouds time's forgotten.
Passage to the city clearings gone by,
We can ask some questions and still espy.