Winter

Bleak day

Gloomy clouds over the city

Only grey, numbing silence

 

I set on a bench

and stared

stared into the distance, through the  brume

that swallowed the whole city

 

I saw in the distance

well-known face

Your face

 

Cosiness of your eyes

set smile

on my hollow face

 

You took my cold hands

and put them on your warm bosom

We stood there in quietude

For a long time

For a very long time

Dedicated to Erica Born. The most beautiful person I've met. I love you Em ;)

Reviews

[Tam Warink]

I could be wrong on this but I think there are certain expectations that a reader has when they read a certain type of work. Of course this is dependent upon the language and culture but in English, with respect to poetry, there is an expectation for most of a bit more than a few emotional words. Now, there is the beginning of a "picture" here, in this piece. You have "sketched" the rough onto the canvas but the promise you made to the reader, to me, seems unfulfilled. Perhaps you just didn't have the strength of will to fill it with the passion it deserves? I don't know. I can only comment. Please keep writing.