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The Poet At Christmas Time

Who is she -
she who has ample time
to follow birds,
listen to the streams,
to spend hours with head in book
or pen in hand
reading, writing of death,
or love,
or seasons of both the year
and a lifetime.

She seems oblivious -
lost in denial
of the world
around her,
far beyond the news,
the traffic, the blinking lights
and the red and green tinsel.

She lives to find herself
in the solitude of the woods
wanting quiet conversation
with wise fallen leaves
that find themselves
nestled on her boots.

One must only wonder
what they talk about.

Style / type: 
Free verse
Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Editing stage: 
Content level: 
Not Explicit Content


Thank you so much! Yes, typo - I will make that change.

author comment

Lovely poem, L. I enjoy it from beginning to end. I´m not sure who the protagonists are. One or two?
The theme is wonderful, so is the spacing and all else.

"My soul is painted like the wings of butterflies; fairy tales of yesterday will grow but never die, I can fly, my friends.” – Freddie Mercury

The protagonist is the poet, but I also tried to personify the leaves in order to create companionship and conversation.
Thank you so much for reading and commenting!

author comment

the compaionship of the leaves is such a nice touch; and what they talked about must have been most interesting. I love every little bit of this! ~ Geez.

Comments and critique are vital to this site!
Even if you just say: I liked this story or your spelling
of a word is wrong, take the time to write a line or two
and comment. Your fellow poets will thank you!

Leaves always seem to have so much to say! Thank you, thank you!

author comment
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