Heart-frozen, tears turn to sleet – crystallized
salt tracks on red cheeks, an outline of pain
all too familiar. This time of year is
not among her favorites. Merry Christmas
and a happy New Year are foreign words
to a tongue twisted with memories.

Yet, as days grow longer, whispers of snow
replace the sting of words that splintered vows
with false confessions of love – too little
too late – forgotten. Broken silent
promises begin to fade; shattering
her patterns, left over from years ago.

A sense of falling – forward, not back, stirs
new resolve; opens possibilities.



Late Snow

Wind snaps around the corner, sings through panes;
scares off visitors unnerved by these heights
and sounds. Scattered across the window, late
snow and sleet chills the room, it makes me want
the warmth of covers and couch, pillows – bed.

Whispers skate in on the bluster. Taunt me,
recall the scent of lavender caress,
patchouli’s passionate kiss from last night
in dreams as clear as full moon midnight sky,
wishing for a midsummer evening.

Rattling glass returns me to desktop,
the glare of computer screen and humming
voices beyond my door wasting away
the day in waiting …for sunshine…for you.

© Siobhan