The Warmth of Hidden Love
I am winter, you are summer
I am winter.
You are summer.
I am the gray of crusty snow.
You the red of a fiery sunrise.
I am rubble from last century.
You, sleek marble from Michelangelo.
I am worn notebooks, pens and yesterdays.
You are heels, short skirts and tomorrows.
I can only love you in hidden phantasies.
You can only love me as your oldest friend.
I keep you hidden amongst my secrets.
Your hand within mine walking me home.
The only thing I can ever give you
is the gentle squeeze of my fingers.
Loves that are, but can never be.
The end of winter coming near,
no seasons of life left for me,
I must make way for summer,
her days of cool nights, dancing
in the hot sun… what can be…
not what once was long ago.
I close my eyes you come visit.
You my lasting warmth in this
coldest season of my life.
