SF (February,4,1937 / W. Columbia, WV, USA)

A Winter Aeorgramme

I dreamt we met in verses once again.
The mood was Lithuanian as yourself.
Our convesation was in pen and ink,
Outdated as a winter aeorgramme.

You wrote me notes upon the stems of flowers,
Then told me to destroy your poor scribbles.
Snow to the eaves could still bring Wednesday back,
Though time itself was quite irrelevant.

I woke this morning feeling reassured,
To see my Yiddish name upon the pane.
Rare as a single snowflake is that bond,
That lights old souls beyond all winterness.

User Rating: 5,0 / 5 ( 19 votes ) 47

Comments (47)

Our convesation was in pen and ink, Outdated as a winter aeorgramme. - From the core of my heart, I mourn the demise of 'aeorgrammes and envelopes', of hand written letters. If you have time, you may like to read my poem titled 'Our Lost Treasure Trove' and say a few words please. This poem deserves full marks.10/10.
Your poem gives that certain special feeling. Beautifully penned.
aweee sandra such a sweet poem..........absolutely loved it!
A beautiful arctic dream, rare as a single snowflake
A beautiful arctic dream, rare as a single snow flake!
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