Sonnet of The Winter
Though bitter gales do through my window blow,
I gaze unto the white sheet of peace: snow,
Yet I must wait for kind spring to arrive,
Which with it brings warmth and flowers alive,
Before the chill in my bones does subside.
Or because the spring doth presently hide,
Scarlett is the Spring and only She can,
With her lone phosphorescent beauty plan,
To persuade the bitter gales to turn ‘round,
And she does all without the slightest sound.
Her wonder casts two thawing aura trees,
And its branches, brittle in the brisk breeze,
Do create a vast warm intricate sea,
Engulfing us as she lay next to me.
I gaze unto the white sheet of peace: snow,
Yet I must wait for kind spring to arrive,
Which with it brings warmth and flowers alive,
Before the chill in my bones does subside.
Or because the spring doth presently hide,
Scarlett is the Spring and only She can,
With her lone phosphorescent beauty plan,
To persuade the bitter gales to turn ‘round,
And she does all without the slightest sound.
Her wonder casts two thawing aura trees,
And its branches, brittle in the brisk breeze,
Do create a vast warm intricate sea,
Engulfing us as she lay next to me.
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