© roy ballard 2012



Your love's absence
Though winter is a gaoler it will bring,
to all its prisoners, relief assured
for winter dies and leaves another spring
but your love's absence is an age of ice
and memory a meagre squirrel's hoard,
misplaced or mouldered, carried off by mice,
too insubstantial fare for times so hard.
The mountain bird that's feathered winter white
that haunts the snows and icy ridge unmarred
finds joy and comfort on his windy height
and bobs with pleasure among rocks and drifts.
I, like a bear can only fall asleep
in some dark cave until the ice-age lifts
to dream of summer days and your sweet gifts.