sweet, my late coffee.
my cat has not turned up.
this night the moon
moved me in sleep.
the tides of me,
my gravity,
they reached my soul
and now the morning
no sun to see
which will feed me energy
but there is light
and i am conscious of it.
and i will rise
in this,
through the milky sky
and over the spots of white,
the cold snow
which still is there,
unwilling to melt
but already losing
in the face of spring.
and i will turn into a bud
risking to freeze
and very much alive,
so sensitive to the frost
i must grow and come out.
No comments:
Post a Comment