(04 October 1943 / Germany)

Eisblumen In Suhl

I was still a child
and believed in ghosts.
Winter was an icy,
elusive old man who
painted flowers
on my window.
I still dream of them
so many years later.

Sometimes,
the flowers were
a hedge of roses,
other times a dragon,
borrowed from a fairytale,
dragons always made me hide
under the bed covers and hold on
tight to my Teddy.

So many winters
have gone by,
all with their
special memories
for me,
but today,
there are
no more ice flowers.

Old man winter must be
painting elsewhere,
surely for some children
who have rosy cheeks
and at least one personal,
special teddybear.

Now and then,
when the cold
has transformed
the world around me,
I watch as children play
in the snow.
Looking
through my window,
I can see
the iceflowers again,
but they are invisible
to all others.
I think they have
always been near me. .

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Comments (1)

Oh........this is wonderful Herbert! I love this! Living in a winter wonderland like Michigan.......I can really relate to the beauty of the ice on the windows. great poem! Sincerely, Mary