dara.cv
07-31-2012, 02:45 AM
Huddled in wool, by the wood burning stove,
our toes chilled between holes in our socks.
We were poor in many ways but rich in art.
A charcoal portrait kept cold, stiff fingers pliant.
A wax recreation, a moment frozen in time,
two dancers cast in bronze,
held your attention by the warmth of their beauty.
Winters always welcomed an appetite,
and we were satiated by cheese and crackers, dried apricots, and cheap wine.
The frost on the windows melted from the heat of our debates
in-tune and synchronicity with Vivaldi's Summer.
The air thawed from passionate exhales and breathy promises.
Love,
yes love, between us, was the warmest art.
our toes chilled between holes in our socks.
We were poor in many ways but rich in art.
A charcoal portrait kept cold, stiff fingers pliant.
A wax recreation, a moment frozen in time,
two dancers cast in bronze,
held your attention by the warmth of their beauty.
Winters always welcomed an appetite,
and we were satiated by cheese and crackers, dried apricots, and cheap wine.
The frost on the windows melted from the heat of our debates
in-tune and synchronicity with Vivaldi's Summer.
The air thawed from passionate exhales and breathy promises.
Love,
yes love, between us, was the warmest art.