A Word And A Flower

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

by Sandra Fowler

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