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.