It Could Be Warmer Love If I'm Honest Poem by Mark Heathcote

Ice on windows, static as dead feathers
That is how I see our lives, love, right now
Yes, it's still beautiful love, it weathers
But it could be much more; it could be snow
Piling up at the door, it could be clouds
Whirling in the mountains forming rainbows
Could be the place white-water rapids joust
Where the trout wore spotted waistcoats.
It could be those unblemished dew drops
Be those tears of laughter when love was strong
And pure like a bubbling spring-like sutras
Read in medieval time's condensed—song!
It could be warmer love if I'm honest
Be more affectionate, as you promised.