Congelati

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Thoughts of you

pass through my mind.

I reach out

to feel them

but my hand

touches glass

patterned with frost.

I breathe on the glass

and the light shines

through

from an empty room.

An evergreen tree

stands alone

in a corner.

Tiny lights illuminate

it’s branches.

The ice patterns return

and the image fades

as I turn to go

replacing my cold hand

inside my glove.

I walk home,

across the

frozen stones.

D.E.J. Dec11th 2008

Sentono la Pietra ►

Comments

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Jeff Dawson

Thu 5th Feb 2009 20:37

Hi Deborah, really enjoyed this, quite dark and mysterious, well written Jeff X

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Chris Dawson

Tue 23rd Dec 2008 16:58

Beautifully bleak.
Cx

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Alison Mary Dunn

Tue 23rd Dec 2008 09:08

Deborah, your poem is both beautiful and sad. That empty feeling of longing that cannot be fullfilled is expressed so well here. The chill from your poem resonates right through me as I remember feeling this way.

<Deleted User> (5984)

Sun 21st Dec 2008 12:26

Oh what a lonely poem, you can feel the ache rebererate through each line.

very effective.

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