I look at Poetry in reverence
as it flows to me
on this December morn.
Gods’ frozen whispers
are lashing at the world.
Are these my everlasting doubts,
I wonder.
They come to me in the shape
of a Gorgon.
Snakes of snow,
adorning its head of fears,
threaten to turn
my heart into stone,
my very soul into
ashes,
if only I glanced
at its might.
It is your love, my darling,
my beloved,
my lover,
it is your fire
that quells
these illusions
of blizzard.
It is your hand
that holds mine
on this path
of ices.
And we dance
and we kiss
and we float in the snow.
Copyright © Vesper L. All rights reserved.
