23 Jul 2016
Let This Winter Linger
he just frowned
or smiled
it was unclear
when she asked
how the winters,
ten and more,
had passed
her fingers,
still as slender,
curled into the handle
of the coffee mug.
his fingers ached
she asked again,
now smiling,
about the winters
would those lips
taste of coffee
or of the sweet longing
of all those years
he won't know
in this winter of life
what tales could he have
of those winters,
without her, lifeless
so he just frowned
or maybe he smiled
it was unclear
but then life
etches its tales
on your face
in wrinkles fine
and each wrinkle
hid a tale
that he will -
when all light fades -
whisper to her
in silence
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