In gentle faith I tender my heart,
blushed with desire, the fire but a soft glow
on velvet cheek.
In pure hope I turn my face upward,
drink in the light, so bright and warm until
the chill slips in.
With icy fingers Winter’s hand traces painful
lines of doubt onto my skin, within the blood turns
cold with longing old.
Seasons of cold indifference and loss
must be endured, no matter the cost, for when frost
is chased away once more
the bloom upon my cheek returns
as the tiny spark still burns deep within my soul-
and whole, I look up and find
the sun ever bright,
CKP copyright 2017