The winter had made an attempt to make me feel lonely, yet I was so content, for I was in love. She filled my heart and put a brush in my hand and whispered, "I am here. Paint. Write. And let's live! "
The tall trees standing gaunt and bare
Have lost the foliage
The branches rise above the horizon
Looking for warmth,
Just when they kiss his lips
The sun sets and drops
Beyond their reach.
It is so cold, they then whisper.
As I look up I see you
Walking across the meadow
Your horse following you close
Your scarf fluttering in the breeze,
You wave and smile.
"Go home, My Love, it is cold, "
And then I look at my painting,
I will finish it tomorrow.
Now I will go home and drink tea
And ask you "How was your horse riding?"
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(c) 1999 Kunal Joarder Please respect the rights of the author and Passions in Poetry. If you would like to use this poem on your own web page, please contact the Author. Thank you.
This poem conjures visions of an absolute fairy tale. Thank you Mr. Joarder.
LINA
Really, very nice and romantic ....
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