Snow-Kissed Firs in Winter

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grayish-azure, overcast skies
finger-paint verdure needles of fir
in argent desires and introspections,
smearing their shivering realms
in volatile warmth of memories
of a lost summer dream,
which shimmered like a sequined veil
on the rippling bosom of mute bays
in the blazing sunshine,
and etched transience in form
of chiaroscuros at their feet.

wisps of cotton wool sighs,
drape the silent contours of winter
in frosted, moonlit anticipation,
fir trees eagerly await
festivities scented in myrtle syllables
lit in soft glow of rainbow lamps
and flavored in baking sumptuousness,
where glitter-paper wrapped gifts
are piled under its frozen thoughts.

the winter sun sprinkles
treacle on fir’s frostbitten boughs,
like a baker sugaring bronzed delights
in saccharine sentiments,
the wind sighs chilled sonnets
on window cheeks,
scribbled in gold-dusted alphabets
by wizened fingers of aged westerlies,
to be read by myopic sun
too preoccupied in munching
on snowflakes popsicles.

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2 thoughts on “Snow-Kissed Firs in Winter

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