Winterclung

There’s an orange glow 
From that moment I held your secrets close
And now it’s skipping on the edges the of the water
Catching on the little waves and highlighting the shifting moods


The grey of the winter evening is filling with charcoal and will grow black

But for now the rain is breaking the surface of the lake
It’s sparkling the color of the sky and singing like glass


Little broken moments cracking our surface

Because we are as delicate as an old window pane
And sometimes just as cold


If the frost could grow over my lips

It would say it was tired of the same stories year after year
And I would reply that the ice feels the same
No matter how long it stays


Abigail Platter is an illustrator and drawing teacher in Seattle. She dares to consider herself a poet that paints. 


Feature Photo by Bruno Kelzer on Unsplash

Comments

  1. I absolutely loved the imagery that you crafted with your words. Thanks for sharing such a wonderful post! According to your convenience please do read some of my writings would love to know what you think about them. 🙂

    Like

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