Tony Pena

Snuggle

Though Boreas’ fangs of icicles
have pierced my heart and cooled
the blood coursing throughout
my body into a plasma of ennui,
the old bastard has failed to curb
my appetite of desire, for despite
the cruel cold, when I close my eyes
you are cradled beside me, bare
with skin sweet as sage honey
and glowing, warming the down
of the quilt knitted from a patchwork
of memories so deep the room hints
of daffodils with rusty breasted robins
poking beaks into the damp earth
foraging for the first breakfast of spring.

Tony Pena

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All rights reserved.

Colorful compositions, caterwauling and a couple of chords at
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