A poem about the tranquility of snowfall, and the memories of those passed. The snowflakes are a metaphor for the transience of life.

Icicles against the glass -

frosted patterns,

that quickly pass.

Tracing outlines

with my hands,

I see distant places-

and foreign lands.

Outside the snow starts

to fall,

as temperatures begin to warm.

The sky is full

as snowflakes descend.

They blow in drifts -

without a sound.

All Christmases past

are before my eyes,

the friends and family,

the memories,

of those long buried

who are at rest,

in tranquil cemeteries

of the dead.

They lie in peace

no more to toil,

and rest in England’s

ancient soil.

The landscape tranquil,

festooned in snow,

like a picture postcard

from long ago.

How long will it last

this frosted scene-

so pure, I’ll hold it,

so I may dream.

My thoughts are airborne,

as if to dance,

with flurries of snowflakes,

into silence.

Copyright 12/19/2015. Suzy Davies. All Rights Reserved.

Literature
Biography
Poetry