A Word And A Flower
Poem By Sandra Fowler
You claim my thoughts,
Though you have never seen your name in frost.
I think the window of a distant train
Still mirrors you like a poem in its glass.
Through strong, blue dusk,
You come to me with a word and a flower.
Snow to the eaves alone brings Wednesday back.
The only gold is in the sunset, Friend.
Previously published, 'Matinee', Germany