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To a lady

You were the station on a cold December morning.
You were the wind.
The snow: your teeth. Your mind: the roaming
Train, a southbound substitute for home.

I was the glamour of a Christmas Tree, the candle.
My duty was to vanish after I
Had reached the brightness of a falling star
That vainly touched the sky and dimmed away.

But spring time came; our icy ivy
Surrendered to the burnings of July.
The Ides of August caught you on San Marco
While I was kicking beer cans in the dark.

The station is deserted this December,
Warm winds are calm.
I smoke another glowworm candle
Before I ride the pole bound train.

I do not wish for you to follow.
You could not live a day within my heart.
The storm would weather you.
Oh, don't turn even once to smile farewell.

There are phrasings here with shades of Leonard. With your own journey, your regaining of your personal power and dignity through acceptance of the way things have been and are, including your heart iced over.....your last verse works especially well for me.

~ Elizabeth

Ciao tom,

Where can I get some of those glowworm candles?


Vesuvius