Sometimes at night I hear small birds lament.
Dark notes that seem to second moon's descent.
Cold is the color of a deep regret,
An etude perfected by winterset.
The world was music and it turned us round.
Stirred by the subtle atmospheric sound,
You gently sketched a snowflake on my face
Which shall be mine till light has left this place.
Such solace has the power to outlast time,
To lock a small bird's elegy in rhyme.
Somewhere beyond the January mist,
The magic of our landscape still exists.
Copyright,2008, Sandra Fowler
You are the poetess who posseses verse perfection. Your work portrays such elegance, and beauty. What a wonderful gift you have been given. I truly enjoy reading your precious poems. Melvina
What a stunning poem this is. Thank you so much for all the wonderful poetry you write and share on this site.
Cringe at the rhymes, adore the eloquent style. And of course, your words, your description, your pairings, your melody. See everyone's fawning all over your delicate verse; needless to say, i haven't missed it (the subservient bootlicking) . ~xxsjg
the soul of good men take rebirth as singing birds... now they lament to be reborn.....
a lovely reflective and melodious poem. winter, beginning of the year, mist, you have woven a beautiful tapestry with words.10 Mamta
a beautiful poem on winterset and on the reflective moods it brings... 'Cold is the color of a deep regret'...good poetic line...smooth melodious write, Sandra...10
A beautiful poem with a nice ending. I love it and 10 added to it.
Beautiful poem. I especially love the lines: 'You gently sketched a snowflake on my face/ Which shall be mine till light has left this place.' The last stanza is a stunner as well.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Once upon a time, I came to peep your words. After a long time, I am back again to fill my heart with immeasurable solace gained from the mesmerizing verses. Esoteric.