A Covering Poem by Steven B Taylor

Ideas


A COVERING!

OPUS 118

It is January the first.
The freshly fallen snow has
Wiped away the blemishes
From the land,
That just the night before,
Was scarred and bleak.

The trees, silent centurions;
Lined up to do battle with
Some enemy of the mind,
Stand in stark contrast to
The pure white mantles
They wear!

Sore spots,
Sticking out of holes
That wind and gravity have
Made. Eternal forces which
Shall bring about
Necessary changes.

The snow is a covering,
A metaphor for things forgotten
Or hidden. It sticks to the surface
Of the ground like a glue.
It hugs close to the thing covered.
A veneer that hides the hurtful
Memories.

I knew a man who wanted to
Tell me what he thought was true.
He tried to put it so nicely,
Yet from his lips the words did flee.
He could not find words delicate,
Nor use the proper etiquette.

Some things are better left unsaid!
Like snow that to the ground is wed,
And hat does cover up bald head.
For on a day the snow will melt,
Uncovering the royal welt.
From cards that have been freely dealt,
True nature then, is keenly felt.

Steven B. Taylor
December 30,1999