Thoughts on Winter
By Ian Kreml
As Winter’s winds rip open my blue coat,
As frost freezes my bones, my skin, my heart,
My soul still through the painful cold will float,
Above my weary body to this art.
And through dark nights where life seems of no worth,
Through storms and snowy seasons where I shake,
From all of this and worse will come the birth,
Of precious words which cause the cold to break.
Yet I would trade these words, and take the cold,
I’d never speak, nor write another poem,
If with me you would stay till we were old,
Or if you called my arms your long lost home.
I would lose all, if even I taste death,
To hear your words, or taste your warm, sweet breath.