Deirdre dreams

Sharing the same sort of thoughts as Jim Mackintosh.

Photo ©Stephen McKay

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Rowan berries in the snow

Rubies’ gleam no more intense,

Cold pierces to the bone.

The raven spreads frost-stiffened wings,

Black plumes will feel the wind no more,

His hair swept back from snow-white brow.

Red drops, bright berries, ruby lips,

In a dream where passion cools like winter breath,

And happiness drifts and fades, December mist,

She touches with trembling finger,

Her love’s life blood,

And begins a life of winter weeping.