Words by Soberflight

poetry and musings

Month: January, 2014

What You Have Wrought

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Do you feel like a sculptor
Who has made a work of art?
You’ve worked so hard at our love
To keep it from falling apart.

It is a thing of beauty
You’ve made for both our sake,
I’d like to think that I helped, too,
And didn’t only take.

But you, along with effort,
Seem to give more thought
In every word you tell me,
In every gift you’ve bought.

But I just run on instinct,
Emotions on the fly,
So if there’s cause for lasting love,
You’re the reason why.

Valentine Mine

 

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I was only sixteen
The day that he walked in.
I felt right off this was the day
My future would begin

Love at first sight? Maybe so,
And I’m prone to still believe it.
Though I don’t know if I really was
Ready to give or receive it.

I have to say that if I had
Waited for more maturity,
I would have lost not only him,
But what my life has come to be.

There were tough times, there always are,
But strength comes out of trial.
The life I have, the love that’s grown,
Has made it all worthwhile.

Winter Garden

Dry and stern, the cornstalks stand
Patient, in the snow.
They greet me as I arrive home
In the last of day’s gray glow.

Their brethren, crushed and trampled,
Fell when harvest came,
And in the snow lie buried
Like soldiers with no name.

The few that were left standing
Are sorry things to see.
Dry and looking crippled,
They bow their heads to me.

Winter Garden

Mournfiul

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Have you ever heard the winter wind
Wail like someone lost
As it blew against the window pane
Whitened with the frost?

Have you ever felt a kinship
With that anguished, mournful sound
As the chilling wind cuts through you
And streaks across the ground?

I’ve heard the wind and trembled,
And not just with the cold,
But the empty, lonely feeling
Of wind blowing through my soul.

 

 

A Message?

In my mind’s eye, a feather falls.
I watch it dance as it descends,
Partnered with sunlight, slow, like a waltz,
To music that never quite ends.
I don’t know what birthed that idle thought,
Or what that feather possibly means,
But I felt peace to watch it fall,
Reminiscent of pleasant scenes.
The feather was pure, the brightest white,
And sunlight painted it gold,
I watched it fall with wonder and awe,
Not feeling hunger or cold.
Maybe, just maybe, it signified
An angel has watched over me,
And it has shed one glorious plume
To send a message to me.
I’m never alone, I realize that now,
For God has stood by my side.
He’s given me strength, as well as His love,
And ,mostly, He’s been here to guide.

Creeping Cold

Early morning darkness,
Cold air creeps in my quiet house
And wraps around my robe,
Looking for access.
It licks my hands
And my ankles.
Night becomes
A chilling cur in morning,
Lying at my feet.
Waiting to gnaw on
My aching bones.

A Window in Winter

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A winter cold has settled in

And wrapped my yard in icy hands.

Cold wind batters, raucous din,

But still my cozy shelter stands.

 

No need for drapes to block the glare

Of sun that fills my window panes,

For icy lace is tatted there

In filigree and frigid veins.

 

I know that physics are involved,

Cold and moisture, surface tension,

‘Tis not a myst’ry to be solved,

There’s an Artist deserving mention.

 

Each crystal is so delicate,

And God has painted every one.

None will He e’er replicate,

Nor is the painting ever done.

 

Each day the painting falls apart

With advent of the warming sun,

But with the night He’ll ply His art,

Another masterpiece begun.