At the touch of Winter's hand,
a lover's passion disperses into sparks
onto dry logs of yesteryear.
Steam pulls its way onto frosted leaves
as a train makes way through winding roads,
leaving each station with a memory
of lovers apart or together again.
At the touch of Winter's hand,
a lover's passion burns the heart,
as dry and still as the logs of yesteryear.
A train emerges out of steam and first-fall flurry,
to pull into the station where memories are static.
A lover arrives only to find no love,
but a once-upon-a-time stolen away forever.
At the touch of Winter's hand,
as cold as a sorrowful heart,
a lover's passion turns their world ashen,
bleak and lost,
and as dry and still as the logs of yesteryear.
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Turadh | poetry collection | completed
PoetryWe have all felt the rain fall on us at some point in our lives. But we are not alone and we can find sunlight between storms. Here is a collection of poems to show that even in moments of sadness, loss, or loneliness, there can still be comfort, ho...
