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NOVEMBERS THAW

by Mark Maxey

Beneath the November snow is a dream frozen
animated in spring which now seems abondoned
extinguished by words others uttered
that should have been ignored

wrapped around a passion of fire
a dream awaits the thaw
that can only come from within
and the snow struggles to snuff it out

a voice inside the throat
awaits a gutteral release
expelled from the diaphrams force
from a rage of repressed years

rattled by an accidental adventure
that voice from long ago is faintly heard
crys for the child to wake from it's slumber
and the end of the year awaits a decision

a child like star gaze
touched by the angel of wishes
cannot lay down forever
frozen by tears of desertion
that only a November thaw can melt

can destiny be forsaken more than once
before it's extingushed forever
or can a voice from long ago be allowed to speak
even in November

November's thaw weeps for brith

11/27/2004

Author's Note: I am finding that old dreams for my art creeps back in as I awake to my creativity. I am finding that age does not matter to create freely as a child does. This poem expresses my new found dreams I let sleep for too long....

Posted on 01/17/2005
Copyright © 2024 Mark Maxey

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