For days on end the poet
Had lived in seclusion
Body and mind in one
With his art
His soul though lost in the
Sea of X-mas lighting
Conducive to spend one’s
Money at the shops.
The artist’s soul has returned
At night to the warm bed of
Energy
Where the batteries of his
Creativity are reloaded.
Yet he wakes to a half-hearted
Welcome of a day
That has not yet decided
To be warm or cold.
The icy grip of the wind has
Departed
Children wish for snow.
Days of regular white X-mas
Remain solely embedded in
One’s memory
Like Art & Love.
Art&Love.evoL&trA.
zoltanzelan
ZJG-POetry’17.