Day: January 5, 2024

Perchance I would meet you again
this wintry evening
out in numb forgotten fields
of longing,
I would
touch once more the warmth
of your calloused hands,
rest in the snugness
of your tight embrace —

I would
drown in the wine
of your tender eyes,
slumber
in the lullaby
of your gentle voice —

Perchance I would meet you again
this wintry evening,
the silent
white of snow would turn
into summer dew,
parched stalks of grass
into golden daffodils.

D. G. Vachal © 2024