Frost and Flame
The lady wandered wandered over the hills, despite the ice and snow
Deprived of concentration, her soul strayed in limbo
Her destination, nameless, footprints without a path
Her thoughts obtuse and frameless, no happiness or wrath
The air was coldy bitter, the wind just like a sword
Advanced upon her cruely, an Artic crazed warlord
And still she ventured forward, tho she did not care why
She walked as one lost in a trance, a soul drugged and shanghied
At times her thoughts translucent, at others dim and grey
Her life was like a novel, a thesis, or essay
Did her hand guide the stylus? Did she direct the plot?
It seems the T's were never crossed, the I's were left undot
I know somehow I'll get there. The way is strait ahead.
If I had flight against this storm, I'd soar with wings widespread
But now I'm just so tired, and all I want is peace
The snow beat down, against her face, from weather's fierce caprice
Despite the snow, she saw a shape, that flickered with a light
A golden glow, so out of place....... a prank of her eyesight?
Onward she advanced, the beacon brighter now
Her instinct for survival, a silent, prayer, a vow
Like two armies on the field, they both advanced onward
A feline curiosity, that needed to be cured
Will I be safe? Can I be sure? Was now her silent prayer
The light was now a sunrise, the end to her nightmare
And then the flame reached towards her, and she did not feel fright
A man with fire in his eyes, his body all alight
His hand felt like a blanket, so soft and warm and safe
Familiar, and yet so strange, a comfort to a waif
He lifted her, then held her close, this woman of the snow
And rocked her like a new born babe, and kissed her brow so slow
Then put his hand upon her heart, and felt its steady beat
And knew the storm, was vanquished, as winds wailed in defeat
He held this lost survior, and thawed her frosty heart
Then filled her soul with melody, like music from Mozart
And carried her across the drifts, to sanctuary's lodge
The winds had lost its vigor, its fury and barrage
The man of flame was patience, the man of flame was love
A bringer of compassion, devoted soul above
He revived her commitment, she florished in his light
And relit, old embers cold, still there, but out of sight
LADY
ANITA
5/21/01
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Now, THIS I love! I have always admired poetry with a strong aboriginal flair.
Only one small prob.
framless,
is spelled, "frameless".
I suspect it's just a typo! :) :) :)
Richard Vallance
~Chrissie
Adam
Hugs,
Victoria