I look into the horizon of your eyes <br />and I see a promising yellow sky <br />I feel the width of your face <br /> <br />and i feel my world turning in my hands <br />then i, in the very reflection <br />of the windows to your soul <br /> <br />blink <br /> and <br />find <br /> <br />i am amongst the undergrowth of pine <br />and the oaken branches wisp about me <br />i reach for your hand but cannot feel time <br />i cannot see you, but your hand finds mine <br /> <br />the fog of the ripe golden earth arises <br />and floods my senses, floods my face <br />my breath is the pen of the song of Isis <br />my heart wears a warm winter dress <br /> <br />i open the door to a world of dreams <br />and i look into its glassy globe <br />an icy wind is appears, but not what it seems <br />it is but a soft snow, with each twinkle, gleams <br /> <br />i am amongst the faces of the world: <br />the world of a thousand faces <br />in all these different places, all at once <br />they seem to pull me every way <br /> <br />every note of music draws my heart <br />in a different shape, of a different part <br />i wrote this poem and thought it through <br />and penned the the very words of your existence <br /> <br />into the drawer, i placed a card <br />sent in the post, by a man of most <br />honorable respect and dignity <br />though i trick myself in all misery <br /> <br />to think you sent that post card for me <br /> <br />{inspired while listening to Postcards From Far Away, by Coldplay. also inspired greatly by my Love}<br /><br />Annie Cordelia Adams<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/b-winter-post-card-b/
