My Winter

My Winter

Night takes its hold, frosted moonbeams,
Cascade through heavy air,
Silvery light dancing,
In a shapeless valley of shadows.

Trees stand rigid in ultimate defiance,
Of the supremacy of winter, as it takes it grip,
Plucking the last remnants of cover,
Standing proudly and arrogantly, for all to see.

The final leaves unwillingly fall,
With soundless impact,
Icy fingers stripping the signs of a season,
Bountiful in harvest, rich in colour,

A crescent moon sails imposingly across a jewelled sea,
Exposing a coverlet of iridescent white,
Untouched, unaffected by man,
Breathless splendour, unadorned.

Nightly assassins succumb to the cold,
The owl, the fox, the poacher,
Drawn to the warmth of their lairs,
Unhindered by catch, labours devoid of reward.

Reynard tracks wearily homeward,
Coat crystallised, heavily worn,
A passage of countless grey-crested ridges,
Across an endless furrowed field.

A canopy of stars,
Providing light, exclusive of warmth,
Guiding to, not leading from,
The comfort of journey’s end.

I stand there unaccompanied,
The canvas of my life, revealed to all,
The purest of solitude,
Lacking distraction.

Silently I hear you calling,
Far off, beyond my world,
Seeking the protection of my love,
Crying out, for none, but me to hear.

The world spins without movement,
Time stands still,
Captivated by your appeal,
A moment, held for eternity.

I see your face, silhouetted in my mind,
Heart racing at the thought of your warm embrace,
Memories revisited, emotions instantly empowered,
Warmness surges, expunging the unpleasant chill.

Fragile contact, fleetingly engaged,
Your voice fades, falls silent,
The vision leaves me,
And then, you are gone,

It was just you dreaming,
Thinking of us,
Your heart and your soul,
Combined in our love.

Trapped in my winter,
I keep a watchful vigil,
Waiting for you to call,
And except for the company of assassins,

Utterly alone!!

Written by Robert Thomas