Simple, a winter’s beach confronting a warm retreat.
Playing the fool I look back to the promised land of your presence.
Playing the fool I smell your on the dusky powder…
shadowed by only me.
Glancing for your love in the solemn pines and abandoned tundra there is no solace below or from above.
Treading softly, as you have taught, where is the peace that once had been sought?
Is it there are the front door, welcoming, soft and gentle?
Is it there in the moments of life without care?
I walk the woods.
I rove the trail.
Snow…knee deep, moments to myself…
‘did I fail?’
Fail to embrace what you once thought to be grace?
Such a quiet, whimsical, being that has left a memory to trace
This winter funeral leaves me in awe.
This winter funeral only betray’s love and her disgrace.