My Heart is Locked Against The Wind
My heart is locked against the wind,
a coming winter storm,
For I must hide my passion close,
Where it is safe and warm.
Above my door I've lit the lamp,
Through the stained glass transom shines,
Into the yard a stranger comes,
and waits within the pines.
He's come before to watch the night,
I always bolt the door,
Though still outside and chilled by cold,
His shadow falls 'cross my floor.
I drew him near once long ago,
Embraced his stalwart frame,
His breath was warm and scented,
I whispered softly his name.
But he heard the beat of distant drums,
and off to war he went,
Read his letters by firelight,
each precious line he sent.
Then somewhere in the snow white fields
by mortar shell he died,
I wept it seemed till weeping failed,
then watched while others cried.
The years have trod by miserably,
so long the memory grinds,
Outside the door at night he waits,
Within the shadowed pines.
I am a captive of my love,
He holds the only key,
To leave this place would end it all,
But that's left up to me.
by Ingar Kleiss
Poetry Ad-Free Upgrades
Vote for this poem
Please Comment On This Poem
|
|
|
|
|
|
| decentofwar | 
|
|
|
