Arrows in Snowstorms

by Regis Boff

Eternity is a grooved spinning record,
go round and round,
We are on the edge of it all,
forever guessing if we are a song.

Every tune pretends to melody
Nothing is still.
Our voices carry,
My whistling
may reach Neptune.
But Neptune, like God, refuses to echo.

Cicadas lullaby in the last heat
of summer evenings.
All as though
they are going to live.
Nothing disturbs the evenhanded blizzard
that is being alive.
We all think there is time to laugh
at the comedy of death.

True love is an arrow fired straight
into the snowstorm of maybes.
The young girl sends her tune
into the whirling and crashing noise
of her suitors.
Who are,
All different,
all the same
all waiting.
Until she finds
the one that does not melt
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PUBLISHED: February 8, 2016
FILED UNDER: Poem, Poems, Poetry, Unnoticed in Clever Worlds