Frost covers fallen bridges,
As it does the ones that stand.
The whiteness settles overywhere.
It's gone when I touch your hand.
The morning is when we see the frost,
Yet we know it came the night before.
I've been awake, still it has come;
Quiet and cold to our locked door.
We have watched frost go.
Have you ever seen it start,
As it wanders up the gulch
And slinks into our hearts?
Then there's always morninig,
Or you suppose ther'll always be.
The sun the frost is melting
As we go on, you and me.
We need to talk more when it's forming,
Not just be glad when it's gone,
For, unlike flowers, we seen to wither,
Warmed only by the dawn.
sometimes it is possible to see start of actual frost and sometimes outsiders see the beggining of the end of a marriage before the partners do themselves.
Wonderful use of imagery and metaphor here. Loved it. - chuck
Tom, how right you are we never see the frost forming, but can always see it disappear. Top marks and thanks for sharing it my friend. David
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
How well you speak the language of the frost. Excellent write, my poet friend. Warm regards, Sandra