Morning scratches at the glass.
and the screen glares back white.
Boiling water recalls the heat of thoughts,
a small bird lands on a branch of sunrise.
And whipping the cream to clot,
as if the cream will stop tomorrow,
I look out the window, hopeful
at the snow, the icy dunes.
What strength a lover has
who pretends nonchalance!
My fingers freeze at the keyboard
When he calls me back to bed.
Lovely poetry. Great original imagery. Reminds me of Great Poet Lorca's magnificent poems.
A Very Deep And Moving Poem! ! ! ! ! Excellently Done! ! ! ! ! Thank You Ever So Much For Sharing This! ! ! ! ! Ever So Many 10S! ! ! ! !
Thank you so much for your beautiful comments Rebecca! They are much appreciated.
There are some poems, not many, mind you, that open the path to immortality. 'Saturday Morning In Winter' is one of them.
Thanks Sandra...that's quite a comment I will be striving for the rest of my life to live up to. :) I am humbled. Thank you.
After all this well-deserved praise, Not much left to say, Don't want to be repetitive So, I'll tell you in my way, 'An immortal and great poem You have written on this day! ' It's just one of those forever poems, That will never go away, A touch of spirituality More than words can evev say.
You have not only changed your name but your style of writing too! Amazing write!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
boiling water recalls the heat of thoughts... What a marvellous line. I could pick out others too. I think your poem has great warmth. and I love the humour in the last stanza. Into my list of favourite poems is where it is heading pronto! Must check out your other poems soon.
Thanks Tom! It's either the boiling water or the anticipation of the caffeine-laden coffee that will soon be ready...until of course she's interrupted in the last stanza.... thanks for reading. ;)