The waxing span of the silver moon <br />Calls to the breeze of the winters chill <br />The brittle arms of the lone Birch <br />Lay still to the frost but are not deterred <br /> <br />And overhead in an Old mans study <br />Sits a little boy watching all of this quietly <br />He pulls a quilt to his weary eyes <br />Watching snowfalls gently like the eiderdown fly <br /> <br />Candles lithe to an enveloped glow <br />Defeats the shadows, with a golden echo <br />A thousand creatures, roam up the ceiling <br />Dragons flicker avidly while unicorns preen near by <br /> <br /> The child laughs, as the old man watches <br />The vital life of youth with imagined glasses <br />Together they watch the stars and the snow <br />Forever besieged in this mementos note<br /><br />Kevin Patrick<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-tale-of-winters-dream/
