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Here you will find the writings of the poet Theodore Waterfield

Winter Again

I am in a mythical cave,
with mythical ice,
my heart a mythical dove.
Snow clouds drift above me.
I am in a moonless ocean
of opal and ashes.
I am kissing November
on its lips,
sharing the silver of my breath,
seeing life’s stones
smoothed by the snow.

Winter is a maiden of white heat,
a falcon with gray eyes.
Can I be with her one more time,
turn pages in the fire,
swallow midnight in my heart
and leave her again
for the children of spring?
I do not know this mystery.
She refuses one word of solace,
so I am invited into passion,
love with a goddess,
tender, and cruel, and cold.

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