I write because my time is limited and my imagination is not.
What was wrong with us? A mad fool was the ruler Our hearts desired
By D. J. Reddallabout a year ago in Poets
Imagine Paris, many years ago Untouched by the internet or cell phones Gently caressed by sunlight and fresh snow With a heart that loves all, which no one owns
It was frustrating Knowing that I left my home When I left your arms
We obey the dog in any weather He has four gods himself, queer quadruped: Nose, stomach, anus and swollen bladder We know his offerings must be scooped
Winter has arrived The most terrible of guests Gaunt, silent and cold
Writing and reading With and for one another Some sort of heaven?
The fearsome geometry of winter Shows that the elements are indifferent To us, as vines ignore the young vintner No domicile can calculate the rent
No utopia Makes the humans do the chores While robots "write" books
Infuse frost with a chilled, clear intellect Immunize it against all writer’s block Grant it the liberty now to select
Some nights, you move through The snow, and some nights, the snow Moves coldly through you
I can make my large form invisible Through stealth, cunning and a touch of magic Which lets me hear your complaints, risible
Winter in Quebec Speaks maple syrup French Sweetening the snow ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
