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Winter Love Song
by Ed Bennett
You were my spring
when we were younger,
the trill from a fresh sapped bower,
a cast of blossoms awakened
to dance their sweet ballet
in the promise of a morning breeze.
Now winter lives with us,
the cold set in our bones
with the rasp of frozen fingers,
a sign of time passed,
a reminder of your faith in my
youthful stride toward competence.
Let me tell you, woman,
of the arbor set within me,
the eternal vernal solstice
cultivated in these many years
when we have grown
trunk to trunk, soul to soul.
We walk this frigid brace of days
when you are the glow embracing me,
the hearth of all elation
fired by your touch and countenance,
unnumbered by this tide of sunsets,
the trill of spring will best this winter.