Waiting

It's never good to have to explain a poem and while I've thought of adding more to this - anything more ruins it in my mind. And so I share with you the what and the why behind it.

Many, many years ago I was infatuated with a young lady. It was a May December romance and I was sure it was completely one sided on my part. Minutes before her flight back to Europe she kissed me for the first and only time. That there was more to the kiss than a simple goodbye was apparent by the flood of tears from both of us.

Back home that evening, unable to sleep, I walked into the woods. Staring up at the night sky I watched the lights of an aircraft pass overhead. In my melancholia, I thought of my heart as being dead like the bare limbs of these trees and so we stood... waiting.



Silent sentinels...
Stalwart bastions...
Standing cold in the night
but with majestic bearing,
they hold the evening sky.
Reaching for the daylight,
and the coming warmth of spring,
they wait for winter to die.
The trees of my winter stand vigil.