Waiting For Winter

Waiting for winter Is like waiting for a transient prince A temporary spider's web, that stretches over life. It's a pail of water that can't be drawn easily or safely. It can't be touched by your lips, Not without it cutting you down, with a slaying kiss. Waiting for winter Is a wooden flute played at the break-of-day It gets into your head and spoons your brains away. Makes of your heart a schoolboys sleigh, That one emptied that had your days numbered Like a champagne cork exploding. Waiting for winter Shall have you exploring the dark sinking in the snow Forest creatures run an