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Irina, I
by Richard VinceThere goes autumn: shuffling down
The winding river as winter chases
It from the distant hill country.
This is her home now: a city that
Welcomes visitors by building walls
In their longing minds, old names
Becoming metaphors becoming
Literal embodiments in imagination.
City of scattered memories, of
Pinpoints of light and shade
On the overcast expanse of night sky,
Be to her a constant companion,
A many layered friend, a lover
That slowly but surely opens
Your bruised and battered heart.
Her feet may roam distant hills,
Her genes may pull her many miles
Across land and sea to fabled valleys,
But she will always need a place
To take off her boots and doze
Contentedly in thoughts of
Adventures past and future.
Winter brings with it the chance
To show her what you can do:
The opportunity to hold her
In your arms and keep out the cold
Until the sweet song of spring is
Heard in her ears again.
01/22/2019 Posted on 02/18/2019
Copyright © 2024 Richard Vince
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Glenn Currier on 02/25/19 at 03:18 PM What a journey is your poem Richard. Casting me over flowered, muddied, hills and meadows of love and relationship. Thanks for allowing me to accompany you, a fascinating traveling companion whose conversation is itself a moving picture worthy of Academy Awards. |
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