christmas poem

all my love for my sweet
i am weary of being bitter and weary of being wise
for i was a gaunt, grave councillor
with the meek, brown eyes
days endeared to every muse
i had a dream and i awoke with it
with joy and wonder
and with the humming bird
as i lie roofed in, screened in
she limps with halting painful pace
for these white arms about my neck
their beautiful hair
do you hear the rain?
evidenced in the glimmer in your eyes