by Leonard M Hawkes

We sheltered here,
But still the sun was hot.
And in that heat,
(No longer strangers)
We easily found
The common means
Through sacred and profane.

Now as I balance in
Icy tracks, trampled snow;
Gasp winter wind and
Fumble awkward key
Into frozen lock—

I seek your simple ease,
And that common warmth of summer.


Author's Note: A "free sonnet" with thoughts of Dan.

Posted on 05/01/2016
Copyright © 2024 Leonard M Hawkes

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