The Scarlet Thread Anthology: Cinders

I sit and listen to silent memories as the callous hands of winter caress

My skin in a bitter, precarious romance.

The cold is my mistress, but my love for you hasn’t frozen.

And despite the chill, and the solitude…I endeavor to remain jovial,

for birds sing their dulcet melodies with the symphony of the breeze.

My ears, my mind floods with icy torrents of winter’s amiable refrain,

But my heart remains bare without your hand in mine,

Without the gentle harmony of your warm, wonderful voice flowing like a clear blue river into my deepest dreams, my sweetest reveries.

I am a boat on the sea of your love and devotion,

And the waters are the shimmering mirror of the memories that time has long misplaced.

If time should wish to please me now, and stand still for one mere moment,

Then let the moment be this: our first night alone, our very first kiss.

I am the lantern in the tree, and you are the light within me.

Hand-in-hand we would waltz through fields of the loveliest flowers,

Which I would delicately pick for you.

I watched them bloom and brighten as you

Draped your fingers ‘round them.

The woods were filled with the soft echo of your footsteps.

I recall the wolf; whiter than the falling snow.

Floating blue eyes against a silky white canvass.

They gazed at you, and failed to gaze at me.

You‘re the good in each person, and a sun that’s blazing strong.

You’re the tender breeze, and sing its song.

I do not weep for you; you are not gone.

You are the petals on each rose, and the raindrops on my window.

You are the dewdrops on the leaves, and the snowflakes on my tongue.

I do not weep for you; you are not gone.

Now on the same road again, I travel alone, trusting the day to take me home.

My heart is empty without the feel of your hand in mine…

And I feel adrift in a semi-real wintry world.

The wolf, the resplendent white apparition, I see again.

The ethereal specter, now sentinel to our jubilant memories.

I turn away and leave, as he gazes at the snowy emptiness beside me.

By Peter Wysocki

Photo via (cc) Flickr user jbelluch (Jake Bellucci)


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