Wishing
Wishing
Steeled against the bitter winter chill,
I sit and wish, and in my wishing see
That fate, if only fate could feel, might still
Reverse the course of paths that shouldn’t be.
Icy fingers grasp at every thread
Of my existence, halting life’s cruel pace
Which time and I both share. And so we dread
The spring, who’s coming might reveal the face
Of destiny that somehow passed us by.
And so, as in some mediaeval rhyme,
Beneath a sparkling forest brook you lie;
Eyes open, staring, unaware that time
Can change the feelings you will always miss,
Since death withheld it’s long and lingering kiss.
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