photo by Steve Caylor
This is a winter poem that Veneta wrote for the love of her life, Clyde. It's another that I found in her little box of special things.
by Veneta Donaldson
Close the door gently; come, beside me rest,
And pillow your dark head upon my breast,
While twilight shadows steal across the room.
Outside the hands of Winter will resume
Their cherished task of silvering the night,
To fill our hearts with rapturous delight.
Dear One, Time may not bring this hour again;
Let no word's cadence mar the haunting strain
Of music, exquisitely sweet and low,
The melody of night, caroled in snow.
The next poem in this series can be found here: Little Old Lady in Blue.
This is part of a series of poems by Veneta Donaldson. A brief bio and the beginning of the series can be found here: Veneta Donaldson: A Poet in the Family.
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