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Temper Now This Cold

01 Apr

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Temper now this cold,
as but withered snow,
melted and parched
‘neath a sunless sky;
how oft in arraignment
had I but weathered,
intemperate of need,
to a sullen winter nigh.

Stay this uneasiness,
in its vague reminisce,
for my ethereal stain,
that cause to be denied;
no tears for this winter,
let not the heart wonder,
for with its final breath,
all shone had but died.

Spring, without capture,
has fallen wild to earth,
not in vibrance, but in pain,
leaving plains to the cold;
this wilding blossom of day,
staid in its truest measure,
shall not diminish winter air,
but may, in temper, be bold.

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Posted by on April 1, 2016 in My Poetry

 

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