I’ve heard the echoes,
chased the shadows,
danced with the reveries
of phantom caresses.
Retreat with me
to a safe space
‘neath the snow-laden burrows
behind the curtain of remembrances
where we will carve out
the annals
of innocence and mirth,
and ascend the smoky hills by night’s end.
Art: “The Road in front of Saint-SimĂ©on Farm in Winter”
Claude Monet