The hoary heart

I deftly move,

In awe of bruising the hyacinths,

Peeking from behind the night curtains.

Days linger on the threshold,

Coy and unspoken.

I’d welcome them,

Yet at a loss for embraces,

Loud whispers wither their spirit.

No greed.

No anticipation.

Only the shadow dangling

Between then and today.

Winter comes at dawn,

Reclaiming her tribute

Of warmth and promise.

I have none.

Deceit triumphs once again

And the violet companions

Smile behind the frost flowers

On my sea ice of a heart.

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