Thawed (Poem)

When Sun’s time fleets before a street light’s haze
and no repletes, dwell for the graze
of the soft green, for man and deer, alike,
the Old Man’s chill stirs sharp longings
of ember cheer and a match strike.

With digits numb and nose blood-red
the warming splash blessed pipes bled
caused me to pine for a thawed head.
My thoughts she knew, though, never said.

She and they are worth frigid hours,
if nothing else, for lent power.
They lend each day, with no refrain —
vital contributions, keeping me sane.

Because, in this iced world where rouge frost flows,
’tis hard to breathe or feel one’s toes.
So, if you should find calm in the sleet,
please reward those who make shelter
complete.

From the Soul,
T.S.P.

📕“Dad Laugh” is a piece from my upcoming published anthology, “Return from the Pale Trail: Gifts to Humanity We’ve Been Taught to Forget.” I’m ecstatic to share this wonderful piece of literature with the family. I hope you all enjoy. Until then, feel free to check out my other published materials.