• Poetry
  • About the Author
  • Publications/Interviews Archive
  • Contact
Menu

Cristina del Canto Poetry Collection

I have rebuilt myself, like a burned down cathedral
keeping my stained glass windows
as a memory of who I once was

Your Custom Text Here

Cristina del Canto Poetry Collection

  • Poetry
    • Remember Me?
    • Yellow
    • Caracas
    • Man of Jell-O
    • All these things traveling through me still don't bring me to you
    • Way of Sorrows
    • Banned
    • Forever Cathedral
    • 3,2,1,0
    • Morning Routine
    • Hugo Chávez Still Lives
    • Venezuela
    • I Could Have Really Forgotten You If We Had Never Met
    • Green Trails Days
    • Rafflesia Arnoldii
    • Lou's Blues
    • Snowmen in Windsor Park
  • About the Author
  • Publications/Interviews Archive
  • Contact
shutterstock_107617517.jpg

Snowmen in Windsor Park

Today, in the safety of noon’s optimism I allowed my thoughts to return to December. Though I never felt her winter, I knew, she was colder than most.

Children built snowmen, from my window, I watched carrots that once served as noses, sinking in sleet. December’s evenings brought Uncles, Aunts, Cousins, Friends. They all came to say hello and goodbye. Some hellos were the first in years, their goodbyes, surely, the last.

And when dawn arrived, new snowmen were built. Some with twigs as arms, and others, without. Their coal eyes longing for limbs, to move freely, as humans should.

Day by day, I watched snowmen melt, drooping eyes, withering arms and silly scarves.

From my window, I wondered what it would be like, to be rooted in one spot, a mouth full of pebbles, and memories evaporating like snow

Snowmen in Windsor Park

Today, in the safety of noon’s optimism I allowed my thoughts to return to December. Though I never felt her winter, I knew, she was colder than most.

Children built snowmen, from my window, I watched carrots that once served as noses, sinking in sleet. December’s evenings brought Uncles, Aunts, Cousins, Friends. They all came to say hello and goodbye. Some hellos were the first in years, their goodbyes, surely, the last.

And when dawn arrived, new snowmen were built. Some with twigs as arms, and others, without. Their coal eyes longing for limbs, to move freely, as humans should.

Day by day, I watched snowmen melt, drooping eyes, withering arms and silly scarves.

From my window, I wondered what it would be like, to be rooted in one spot, a mouth full of pebbles, and memories evaporating like snow

shutterstock_107617517.jpg
Forever Cathedral
shutterstock_96137384 (1).jpg
about 10 years ago

copyright © Cristina del Canto