If this be our last winter my love Then let us lie in the arms of lust drunk on its seducing juices Flame, desire, and mad hunger on our lips Kiss stained teeth clenched in passion Soft strong arms locked in affection Our all five senses tickled wild In frosty whites very last moments...
It is time again for Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle who celebrated her 41st wedding anniversary yesterday, congratulations again. The lovely photograph is also courtesy of her. I have not been writing much lately, but I found a poem in my notes that sort of fits the mood I got from the picture (the blue of the sky is just speaks hope to me), and then last night…a prose like story came to me…I am sharing both.
Comments and constructive criticisms are always welcome and appreciated as is your participation . THANK YOU!!!
It was the evening before Christmas…5pm to be exact. I was bored; having been home alone all day…I never have company really, but not one to mope about being single, I decided to take a walk…
Last minute shoppers were running helter skelter…little boys and girls clutching tightly the hands of their fast paced parents…carolers parading the streets as heavy set white bearded men stood at corner shops jingling brass bells, singing of Christmas cheer…none for me though…
I looked up as my heart found itself soaring with the unusual bright of the night sky… hope seemed written in its blue…
It just might be a different Christmas I thought out loud…if only I knew how…
Christmas comes in cold winter December
Bringing hot cocoa, red ribbon tied presents
Glorious lights and evergreen trees
Families gather round
Wishing upon a twinkling star
Shinning bright over(on) Bethlehem night
Sweet kisses under mistletoes
Hoping the new year brings greater hope
Nature calls my name through every whispered hum Heard among rustling leaves and heavy clouds hanging low Wintry air sweeps swiftly pass warm lands As my heart open to the season soars in poetic response Peace and art found in the cold blowing wind
Dark dreary quiet and gloom The clouds feel and see no warmth Hanging their heavy heads low They burst forth in tears
Gray and mostly cloudy in these parts, the skies mope The sun warmly bright and golden glistens proudly in some other parts Nature finding a way to create balance in her tilted world
If I could, I would turn the tide of this bitter cold Gently breaking its back into many small unrecognizable fragments And slowly open the skies to the Sun, golden warm like your touch
The sun holds on tight
For dear life as autumn and
It’s cold chills fall