She Will Return With a Flaming Torch
A different aspect on Spring’s arrival if you suffer from Seasonal Affective Disorder
I’m swamped by this cumbersome duvet
that resists my attempts to wrestle it off
while coddling me to sleep even longer.
A shadow beckons from the window
enticing me to drift across the river
only to snare me in twilight.
Struggling to rise, I scrutinise
the sky for willow warblers returning
from palms in toasted lands,
but it’s premature, for their circadian
stirring. I drag drapes back further.
Naked arms wave frantically
pleading to be buttoned with buds,
succoured by mother orb.
hopeless, I slump into pillows, waiting
for Persephone’s return.
© capricorn 2023
Yep, like this. We could do all do with some of those toasted lands HaHa!
Well the sun has been shining here the last few days – not quite toasted lands, but we’re nearly there.
Cast off that winter duvet, Eira. Time to get out the summer one. Beware of shadows across the window… old Morpheus is not the only shadowy one out and about in depth of night. Enjoyed your poem. Take care, Mick.
Yes! The weather is great at the moment – but those shadows are frightening! So glad you enjoyed this.
You presume right – mother orb is the sun. I seem to be getting quite an interest in the underworld – where will it end? LOL!