Bitterly cold, winter clings to the naked trees. If only you would free the bright sparrows from the tips of your fingers and release a smile—that shy, tentative smile— from the imprisoned anguish I see. Sing! Can we not sing as if we were warm, hand-in-hand, shielded by shade from a glaring sun? Can you not always remain this way, stoking the fire, more beautiful than necessary, and silent? Darkness increases; we must remain vigilant and this distant light is our only consolation— this imperiled flame, which from the beginning has been flickering, in danger of going out. Come to me, closer and closer. I dont want to be able to tell my hand from yours. And lets stay awake, lest the snow smother us.
Posted on: Thu, 15 Jan 2015 05:33:28 +0000
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