my winter weather leather gloves that hide my fingers from true feelings and love

14 Apr 2008


leather gloves keep my fingers
from lingering in this weather
but they're costing me frosting feelings
I all too often love to get lost in
it's a bond I've grown to know
and appreciation I tend to show
for the way the wind washes white
the life from my pinking worn skin

it's my favourite kind of cold
for all my evading of growing old
to set upon the snow
and all that's freezing at my feet
and let allow to please me
for a time at least till it melts

under the sun's heat the fluffy marshmallow sheath
lines a silk doily protecting the land underneath

as the day passes
and the mist warms on our glasses
I can wallow in the white washing wall
of snow wafting in tomorrow's fall
as snowflakes make signs;
frost floating in the sky
I watch wistfully the bliss for me
landing graciously at winter's call

every now and then
I feel urged to attend
the nagging plead of my cuticles to be plunged
in the beautiful pure knead
of water turned ice,
turned a soft that can suffice
the price of getting frost bite
for a moments pleasure of the cold

I'm determined feeling alive
is founded in the drive
to stand steady through winter's weather;
rain, hail, shine or snow
and I'm sure there's hope
for more of your favourite days of cold
spent kept up in warm blankets,
walking in the brisk night wrapped in jackets,
scarves and cigarettes dangling from your head
warm wood fires inside with several glasses of red wine
or coffee and chocolate and your lover lying beside
you tucked up in bed