As I Count Your Days

I count the snowflakes as I count your days.
The hollows hold evaporated stars.
Each one as unique as a poem thought,
Bears witness to winter's eternity.

The landscape is the color of old wood.
Vividness would disturb its elegance.
Within its depth I carve your Slavic face
And feel my fingers warmed by memory.

Previously published: Skylark, Purdue University Calumet

by Sandra Fowler

Comments (21)

Imagery immense…nice treat… Ten… Ms. Nivedita UK
'each one as unique as a poem thought'...truely wonderful poem
exquisite work m'am.............so smooth and tender.......great imagery. 10 all the way
a wonderful write..and once again, full of imagery as you can truly do it.Full of emotions poured out on this piece.
the depth of memories is simply not measurable, but your magical quill has managed to fathom those depths.
See More