I love you purely, without reservation,
as sure as virgin snow caps mountain peaks,
effortlessly, without clinging,
yet still clinging.

And when Spring comes, I would be
like the melting snow, freeing
majestic palisades from the warm
blanket of Winter.
My once sheltering love, now
a river that assuages her
lover’s thirst, but never holds fast.

And when the cold winds return,
I will be as the first snow that blankets
the peaks once again,
covering her Beloved in warmth.


(A poem I wrote using a prompt piece by Pablo Neruda “I want to do with you what Spring does with the Cherry trees.”)


10 thoughts on “Beloved

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