Perhaps This Time Poem by Ernestine Northover
Perhaps This Time
A snowball on the ground, I have found, perfectly round,
created maybe by small hands, it stands and thus commands,
me to scoop it up and toss it across the cosmos.
And this I had wished to do, but it flew not, and slipped through my fingers,
landing at my feet, on hard concrete, no longer complete.
Carefully made and displayed, it was like a grenade
as the moulded flakes shattered into fragments which then takes the sun
to turn them into tiny watery lakes.
And now another snowball I have found, and this one is also action bound,
so whitely gowned.
Perhaps this time I can throw it high, beyond the sky, I know I’ll try.
Each single particle, never one the same, is so beautifully designed,
miraculously refined, and a pleasure to the mind.
A metaphor for 'if at first you don't succeed, try, try again', your sensitively drawn poem carries me to the other side of the globe with its wintry images of childhood and its warm heart. Beautiful penning from a fine poet. love, Allie xxxx
Dear Ernestine The first part of this poem is so sad, and the rest is so true, each flake perfect in design and yet just as us, no two the same Wonderful writing again from you Take care Love duncan X
'Perhaps this Time' I will find the time to enjoy Wintertime. Nice. Very nice, Ernestine.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/28/2024 1:40:48 PM # 1.0.0.1119
Another wintery scene depicted so well by you Ernestine, you are one talented lady. Love, Andrew xx