A Frosty Love

 

It seems I’ve lost my way amidst your chill.

Was only yesterday our love abloom

but your intemperance a wanton spill

of words as cold and listless as the tomb.

I’ve wasted quite away from your cold draft.

A sullen gray has settled on my head

and you, your frozen pauses, seem quite daft.

My heart endangered by your talk, instead.

Oh, rose of romance, bent amid the drift

I pray the sun will waken this cold trend.

Will love , now lost before your sullen shift

be gone and dead and never come again? 

A warmer, kinder glance, a tilt or phrase

might yet, my icy sadness, you erase. 

 

“Sarcasm”


Proud, strutting peacock, bilious scream.  Your noisy scene affronts my ears; then my brain. If chatter your device for breaking ice,  then your attempt for cool now goes astray.  Sarcastic jester, fool upon your stage. As partner in your play,  I’ve  disengaged.

Photo Credit: Made Hery Santosapeacock