If only I could
catch the snowflake,
Heaven-sent,
Melting, falling.
The cloud I sit upon
Will never be cold enough.
But then, if only when,
I could see her beauty,
As transformation,
Perfectly to earth's ground.
I'll need a canvas of darkness,
whom should find a brush,
To paint the scene beneath her,
While softly she dies.
Resting comfortably,
Kindred, in the field of snow.
Restrained here in the sky,
Above the radiant sun,
Below the heavens,
There is no evening for my soul.
No comments:
Post a Comment