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In the inbetween of winter and spring,
you held my hand again, so to you I cling,
as the flowers bloomed so brilliant and bright,
and passions of youth fluttered and took flight.
Though we grow old, in time's unbending hold,
and flying has cost us wings, but behold,
my soul sings of your fire's warmth and light,
and how it sheltered me through Winter's night.
| This is a really nice classical poem. Short and sweet. I enjoyed it.||| Posted on 2016-10-21 00:00:00 | by Paradox | [ Reply to This ] |