Mornings Marvel Poem by ronald meseck

In days of my youth, way back when
In winters night, those so cold back then
A secret vistor would sneak in from that chill
To escape those temps of twenty below in nights still

In my blankets I'd wrap to seek warmth there within
Thoughts would wander 'til my sleep should begin
I'd hear the sounds of cracks and pops from stoves wood burning
And those creaks of boards laid upon the floor twisting, turning

Would that stranger do revelations 'til the break of dawn
Quietly and methodically doing its work on and on
Possibly a masterpiece to bestow me in its make
All so waiting - just for me - when I would wake

I awoke that next morn - it was all so very frigid
Even those toes on my feet touching the floor were rigid
Stoves heat had cooled as only a few ashes did yet glow
Then I ran as a fool seeing bright flashes on a window

It was suns morning beams glittering through an ice veneered pane
Glorious was its illustrations - done in purest shades of silvery white
Images of ferns, flowers and birds all strewed about in a majestic reign
And there standing near its top - an angel with wings and face so bright

A warmth of a new lit fire and those rays of the day inflicted their might
Sad tears commenced to run down her face - all was melting away in sight
Only what is seen but once must be recorded by our eyes
As once memorized - they may again and again be visualized