THE WINTER LETTER: A Poem

From the Early Poems Collection circa early 70s

A February Day (gdw photo)
A February Day (gdw photo)

It was a cold February morning

when the postman gave me your letter.

The ivory flakes fell upon the terra outside the window.

The cedar logs burnt brightly in the ingle.

The flowers had perished,

but this time it was different somehow.

Somehow I knew…I knew…

Memories of childlore floated like gems

upon the midnight clouds.

The old trains sped by at a constant pace.

Cars swirled amidst the streams of locomotive complexity.

The jets left trails of silver dust across the skies.

Where did the days of cherry lollipops and Camelot sandcastles

on the amber beaches disappear, my love?

What happened to the Japanese kite

that we flew to the moon

on that summer’s eve?

The tenacious cotton candy of fall fairs is far away now.

The sands of time rush down the glass funnel

like objects of lead.

What happened to you, my ladylove?

We used to enjoy the simple joys of life.

Remember?

What murdered your tender spirit among the lilies of the vale?

The rose’s color fades as the passing morning cloud.

The winter must precede the summer.

Where that ode of the May bird that we heard?

I thought your heart could bridge the chasm of time

that threaten to separate us forever.

Life is not ice cream sodas on a Sunday!

Dreams are not the products of reality.

We used to live on clouds of cream pies and cheese cakes,

so rich,

so delicious…

We enjoyed walking down the paths of flowers

in the gardens of love.

Where have the jack’ o’ lantern and snow white gone

from fantasyland?

We enjoyed walking among the fir trees

and marveling at their aged beauty.

What happened to the games of chess and backgammon

that filled our evenings with pleasure?

Where is that summer daisy that fell from your hair

on that rainy June afternoon?

Is it lost forever in the currents of time?

Remember,

when the winter winds blew the rain of winter

against our warm bedroom window?

Remember…

My thoughts returned to the present.

When the snow melts and the mountain air grows cool,

where will I be without you, my love, where?

Can there be meaning to existence without you at my side?

Questions,

thousands of questions,

but

no answers,

no answers…

G. D. Williams       © 2013

POST 437

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