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Letter in December
Dear, our hearts
suddenly flourish, flourish lovingly.
The red pump astonishes our ribs
delicate muscle in the chill of morning.
It is the dawn,
Rain down the temple
with its clear droplets of magic worlds.
Something monumental in the air.
a snowman tumbling from a ledge.
The taste of snow.
I am coaxed into writing.
I am stupid to be happy at the inkwell
I have grave thoughts about stones and flowers.
Marching down my walkway I see you
your hands items to be seized at a store
your breath in the air steaming
through the morning newspaper.
You have replaced the morning's headlines.
I can declare the rights to your heart.
I am poised to be let into the marching band of your soul.
I have interrupted thoughts that have dissipated with the rain
I endear you with a postscript
I have none else to tell.
Your keys fall from my door
Your breath settles in through my keyhole
I tell it to you whole.
You are adored.
Copyright © 2004
Jason VIsconti. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
Bio: I am 29 years old and have
been writing poetry since I was 15. I enjoy creating unique imagery
in my work. I have been previously published in such magazines as:
"Virtual Writer", "Word Salad", "Poetry
Junction", "Poetheart", "Now and Forever",
and "About the Arts."
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