Winter hangs on like an old beggar.
\nFrom one moment to another
\ntime passes untouched.
\nIt is the curious pain of nothing.
\nIt is neither dead nor alive.
\nOnly the hand of something gone,
\ndissolved, forgotten.<\/p>\n
In its youth winter is a princess,
\neyes full of kites flying in the snow.
\nThe spring of stars
\nin a cascade of indescribable flowers
\nopening and closing
\non our new beginnings.<\/p>\n
I put my heart in its hands
\nand tell it,
\nThank you.
\nI have not forgotten,
\nI will recite your poems over and over
\nand ask magnificence
\nto anoint you with its glory,
\nto be forever what you are
\nand meant to be.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Winter hangs on like an old beggar. From one moment to another time passes untouched. It is the curious pain of nothing. It is neither…<\/p>\n