Cold sunshine writes our elegy in frost, <br />Author of light a million snowflakes lost, <br />All gone forever into swirling air, <br />A dance of death that is no longer there. <br /> <br />Pure poetry becomes a stanza said, <br />Classical white a message left unread, <br />While we stand longing for a winter past, <br />Hurt by a mood that was too fey to last. <br /> <br />West is a shadow wrapped around frail bones, <br />Your hand in mine for eloquence atones. <br />Touch is a brevity that needs no sound <br />To turn the weather of the world around.<br /><br />Sandra Fowler<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/an-elegy-in-frost/
