The sweetness of your lips
and kisses I remember,
were lost to early snow
the last day of September.
The cold had come my way
as if it would remind;
the heart always betrays,
and love is always blind.
But then an omen came
of how I love you still,
as snowflakes kissed the earth
outside my windowsill.
A scarlet bird played there;
his feathers kissed the snow,
and I recalled your touch,
your kiss from long ago.
Leave a Reply