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  October's Child

Dine At Winter's Table





If I were selling sonnets in a book bound of leather
Or blooms of cinnamon smells, in autumn's weather
Would you stop to share your thoughts, with a word or two?
If I were carving pumpkins on the banks of Timbuktu

~~~~~~^~~~~~~^
               ~~~~~~^~~~~~~^
If I gave you my blueprint for a sugar white moon
Would you lace it into dreams or sip it from a spoon?
I could loan you my memories of white sailboats in June
Or share a cup of blue, from the waters of the lagoon

~~~~~~^~~~~~~^
               ~~~~~~^~~~~~~^
If I dance with the sea oats that blanket the shore
And make castles of sand-beads to adorn your door
Would you sit under an apple tree in a caning chair?
And dine with me at winter's table, though it may be bare

~~~~~~^~~~~~~^
               ~~~~~~^~~~~~~^
If you could read my words under winter's blue sky
It's a foregone conclusion of the reasons why
My eyes brim with sunny things for us to talk about
Because everything I do is about you,  from inside out

 
                       Dînez à la Table d'Hiver
Nov 07, 2014







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