Annie Johnson
Annie Johnson
The Cold Wind of Time
A cold wind is a lonely wind. It swirls around me from a lost world. The wind whispers plaintively, secretly; Bearing warm memories buried Beneath the snows of dying dreams; Ancient yearnings as old as man – Hammered by the wind-chilled mind Deep into the aching ground of loss. Beneath the warm hood of love And the woolen scarf of dreams, Lies the memory of fiery passion The white-hot beating of my heart Covered by the blanket of his desire. The wind brings the taste of him Past all my senses attuned to his body In the familiar warmth of quilts And goose down promises Of love and everlasting bliss. All lies buried beneath the crusted snow; And in the breathless cold of distant stars. Resurrection comes on a cold wind; And the frozen tears on the lashes of time.
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