A WORK OF PETALS
In snow-blind echoes white and naked
the raw mountain wakes up an ancient feeling,
a frozen flower under the ice, preserved by love.
Child of the rip with pebbles in the wake
the tide washes clean the mouth of the sea
and speaking to me as a lost lover’s soul
she downplays my role in the scheme of things.
Buzzing in a cloud alone in a bar
I rise to the roof on the din of knowledge;
turning to a voice that is never far
the muses laugh at the poems I sing.
Sought in the echo a strange new feeling
of unexposed flowers under the skin
as spring returns to the mountain above
in a blizzard of petals loosened by love.
ŠJimmy Warner Design, 2001