The Wind caressed the Leaves, sending shivers down Their Spine <br />Floating to the Ground, to be together, one Last-Time <br />And Birds, who Flew – Not South – <br />Flapped in a Row, on Phone Lines <br />Gossiping … ‘bout Naked Bushes and Barren Berry-Vines <br /> <br />Sir Day… wore Gray, Charcoal-Ash and a Pale, Dull Pewter <br />Looking like an estranged, forlorn, forgotten Suitor <br />Whose Love had run away… to find another to Hold <br />Someone, not so Varicose-Veined, Vapored and So Very Cold… <br /> <br />So, the Suitor, stood at her Window; Pressed his Crestfallen Face <br />To show he bought her Pearls and Fragile… Virgin Lace… <br /> <br />His Tears, formed Icicles, on Her Window-Sill <br />‘Til His head, Hung Overcast; Sharp, Dark and Chilled <br /> <br />Then, He Touched my Window; I was too Frozen to Move <br />Tho’ He’d gone Below His Temperance <br />I could do Naught to Soothe <br /> <br />For such Cool-Fiery, made me Leery <br />To go and offer my Tepid Intervention <br />Thus, I sat at Winter’s Window… <br />Warm Inside with Condensation …<br /><br />MoonBee Canady<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/at-winter-s-window/
