Lora Colon

Gold Star - 12,023 Points (26 September 1944 / Missouri - United States)

A Winter Night - Poem by Lora Colon

Time outstretched its callous fingers
And reclaimed my summer bouquet,
While Death's apprentice wrings his hands,
Waiting for his cue in this play

The hour has grown late - so be it -
Life still calls and begs to be heard,
Though eyes grow dim, yet my ears strain
To hear Love's faintly uttered word

My door now opens to strangers,
I'm not concerned with their intent,
A daring stance now pays my way,
The coins of youth having been spent

And what of love, that distant dream,
Coming close, never touching me -
This consoling thought I proffer:
Keep faith, dear heart, it yet may be!

And perhaps on some moonlit night
With his arms clasped tightly 'round me,
My love and I will speak with joy
Of that winter night he found me

Watching tender blossoms open,
Though a frost lay thick on the bower,
How we'll bless the borrowed sunshine
Love granted in our winter hour!

But should this never come to pass,
Who is there to blame for my plight?
Just a fool, in her loneliness,
Who dared to dream on a winter night

Topic(s) of this poem: love and life


Comments about A Winter Night by Lora Colon

  • Bri Edwards (2/6/2016 9:35:00 PM)


    favorite lines:

    “And perhaps on some moonlit night
    With his loving arms around me,
    My love and I will speak with joy
    Of that winter night he found me”

    ================================

    your lines:

    “And what of love, that distant dream?
    Coming close, never touching me,
    This consoling thought I proffer:
    Have patience heart, it yet may be! ”

    my echo:

    And what of wealth, that distant goal?
    I have it not, though I see it often.
    Perhaps I’ll end up dying: “a POOR soul”.
    I’ll remain a pauper to my coffin.

    bri :)
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  • (2/2/2016 5:52:00 AM)


    A beautiful poem, Lora............ The coins of youth having been spent................ this is a great line, but remember, age invests currency in the mind.............

    Hold fast to dreams, for if dreams die,
    Life is a broken-winged bird that cannot fly..............Langston Hughes
    (Report) Reply

  • Mohammad Ahmadizadeh (2/1/2016 1:08:00 PM)


    This is sooo beautiful. Rhythm is excelent. Wards flow as a pure river. Nice work.10 (Report) Reply

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Poem Submitted: Monday, February 1, 2016

Poem Edited: Tuesday, March 7, 2017


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