My eyes draw in the splendour,
There's beauty all around;
The gentle hush - The snowdrops
In both the sky and ground.
The seasonal returning
Of cold and crispy hoar;
The telling, by the hearthside,
Of ancient tales of lore.
The conifers still keeping
Their green, now skimmed with white;
The hibernating hedgehog
In his leafy nest, curled tight.
The children out a' playing,
Happy chatter on their sledge;
It seems a dozen seasons since
The Robin's chicks did fledge.
And still the snow comes trickling down
In mesmerising trails;
Six-sided flakes of frostiness,
Released from cloudy jails.
I sit and ponder all these things,
Then spy the empty chair;
And wish my darling friend was here -
These things, with me, to share.
(Written Jan 2013)
John this is such a beautiful picture from life, the sense of wonder mingled with melancholy is perfectly blended with just the right words; excellent poem indeed.
Beautiful John, I share your sentiments for what is beauty without someone you love to share it with you.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A poignant and beautiful poem. The title foretells the sadness but you carry us through the beauty of winter first, so we almost forget - very skilfully written.