The hillside was silver and cold.
Snow by starlight should be beautiful,
and it was;
but the bitterness of its beauty
recalled my chattering teeth,
so I looked down to the village instead.
That valley was too narrow for us both to be.
You could be; I could be.
But we could not.
So we huddle-froze up on the mountain, inseparable.
Damned the spying eyes
and held close.
From such a distance,
the golden-syrup streetlight glow
clung viscously around
the village houses and walls
every deep shadow a fleck in amber
Essentially unchanged
for a hundred years
We swore we'd not fossilise;
but love fiercely
and change,
and grow
and we did.
That's the pain of it.
We breathed our teen promises,
nose to nose,
watched them freeze into clouds;
hang, swirl and dissipate.
No comments:
Post a Comment