Spurn not my loving in the early morn,

as sun’s pink fingers paint the dawning day.

Melt in my arms, snowflake on a naked branch –

that clings, then drops upon the fertile ground.

Silent as footsteps in fresh fallen snow,

soft as the petals of a fragrant flower,

lips meet, a touch that trips the heart,

to chases icicles of fear away.

Our love is mirrored in the waking day

from softest pink to warmer shades of light.

Till rising from its slumber ladened lair,

bursts in flaming rays across the sky.

Then with drowsy eyes, we cling, our arms entwined.

Dreaming soft images, feathers on the wind.

 

 

David Garlick, Victoria, 1989