Snow in June

I'd prefer a rose in December

Than snow in June

But that's to be expected

Common sense has its infirmities

Nothing happens too late

Or too soon.

Those stone-built houses of Lancaster

Told me a story of endurance

Despite the fact that I was illiterate

At the time, my eyes deceived by promises

Of an abiding

Shaman, who once, said to me

Don't rely on a break in the moon

Or a birth or a death,

Just pray to get through today

I do 

Take my breath

On my holy day

She said to me

That I love thee

Not to death

But far beyond

The meagre words of this sing-song


Were sung so-long, long ago

In a place I can no longer go..



Image result for roses in december painting

◄ Another day

Stippled sky ►


steve black

Tue 9th Apr 2019 13:47

For some reason I can imagine you reciting the Viking Sagas around a roaring fire. Interesting change of pace in the second part of your poem which adds to the effect. Anyway, to cut a long story short, I enjoyed it.

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