All weekend I thought the wind came from the north
so I shivered with cold but then the evensong window
flew open and in you rushed warm ebullient and vital
to melt that icy coating I believed would be permafrost
and I am pleased - so very pleased -
you swept in to my Sunday.
If you would but touch my ruffled being, I will thaw.
Be assured I have no wish to cage this sirocco in the
cup of my hand. My palms are upturned, open, and
you are free to leave at will according to your shifts,
your restless spirit prevailing - but I hope -
I so hope you choose to stay.
March 2023
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Nice one. Wonderful drop as always. Loved it.