From Winter’s Cold Face….

She moves like the warm wind of spring
from winter’s cold face retreating
across crystal streams
winding through emerald woods
dancing across weathered stones
entering the gulf of dreams
where twilight never fades
and the sun never shows its jealous light
upon her sweet visage
and pain does not exist
loneliness has no footing
and heartache’s name was never spoken
the silence surrounds
embraces the perfect moments
where care sits quietly beside you
hands folded,
waiting for you to step back into reality
Yet she stands on the verdant hilltop
the gentle breeze tussles and tosses
her linen skirt of pure white
billowing softy with satin ribbons and deep auburn waves
a place I remember visiting
once upon a wishing moment
an ember of thought slowly burning
refusing to die
like the tireless ocean
casts its deep azure arms around the shore
over and over
each time bringing a little of the earth
back home to rest with the sea
which existed first when all things were created
She is like that constant force
an agent of nature’s will
ever present and supporting
never waxing or waining
strength of the oak
patience of stone
heart of gold.

— E.Syrdal 2004

About Eric

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