Thursday, January 14, 2016

A Poem by Ken Allan Dronsfield

Youthful Flame

It's afternoon here
in the wooded valley
where tall trees dance;
as long walks covet
an ambiance of romance.
It's silent and serene now;
the only sound is the
light snow falling;
twinkling glimmers
of diamonds hitting
branches and ground.
All now covered in white;
and my candle is alight
on the window sill
near the warming fire.
The orange glow
and falling snow
elicit memories of
melting in mugs
of hot cocoa; boots,
hats and scarves by
the back door.
A time to remember, those
beloved youthful days;
and the simple ways, here;
where the tall trees dance.

Ken Allan Dronsfield is a published poet/author/digital artist originally from Hampton New Hampshire, now residing in Oklahoma.  He has been writing for many years and enjoys spending time hiking, playing guitar and spending time with his cats Merlin and Willa.  His published work can by found at numerous print venues:

No comments:

Post a Comment