St Valentine's Day, 1969

Overnight in this magic city, Dublin,
city of sleepless expectation, it has snowed.
Today the world is white - whiter than the dress
that hangs beside my bed in readiness.
My breath blows white on threads of air:
beyond ice-patterned glass the garden
wears a wedding-veil of light.

I clap my hands and dance tip-toe,
then race to make my mark in snow,
place my bare feet in its melting chill,
pressing in my prints with care: I know
I can carve this day into Eternity, hold it so
forever in my mind: delight, and snow.

Gill McEvoy.

If you've any comments on this poem, Gill McEvoy would be pleased to hear from you.