Washington Park
written by: Waide Riddle
Snow swirled and spun. Falling from the gray December sky.
High above the Denver skyline.
Winter has its calm… floating white powder… a white Heaven.
The crystals gently tickle… they pass my nose… frozen on my overcoat.
Washington Park.
Under the gray-white.
The pines with ice-coated bark, a light blue radiant tint hits it just right.
The cold holds charm, a billowing breeze, the crackling of ice-covered trees.
Fresh powdered snow. The gusts dust me with the frozen glitter.
The snow falls more heavily from above…
He sits next to me on the park bench.
With no words, he hints.
His gloved hand holds mine.
Time means nothing…
He is my Love.
He whispers the most beautiful words, ever so quietly, into my ear.
I listen. I hear his Love.
His head rests on my shoulder.
It’s suddenly warmer than colder.
The bow of his neck is smooth… I love that part of him.
The short trim of his mussed hair.
The hint of the scent of Cool Water lends to this moment.
He is my Love.
From the gray, white, and blue… blankets cover the park in brilliant white and blue hues.
Washington Park.
With my Love… my muse.
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