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ohsteve
Her fire warmed maple syrup eyes,
born in the winters first snow.
her heart was white pure and cold.

Balsam, scotch, blue spruce her winter flowers,
great gray owl, the chickadee her birds.
Skiing, snowboarding and skating her passions.

But I was born in the late spring almost summer,
bright blue waters sparkled in my eyes.
angling for trout catch and release my sport.

We were of an age growing up within the same region,
next door neighbors in a way.
But her heart was ice and I was the sun.

As years passed I began to love her,
trying to melt her heart and warm her eyes.
at the age of eighteen, our senior prom.

I asked her to go and she complied,
we danced through the night.
Deep in the pale moon shadows.

We were wed in the fall and loved ‘til the spring,
when the baby she bore took her life.
Her daughter was fire warmed blue eyes
and maple syrup hair and a heart that loved the year through.

We’d planted a spruce near the head of my loves grave
and it grew as her daughter did too.
At the age of eighteen a boy came to take her,
I cried for my lost loves then.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
revision

Winter’s Summer Romance

Her fire-warmed, maple syrup eyes,
born in winters first snow.
her heart white, pure and cold.

Balsam, blue spruce, scotch,
great gray owl, chickadee.
Skiing, snowboarding skating,
These are what she was.

I was born in the late Spring, almost Summer,
my eyes, bright blue sparkling waters.
Angling for trout catch and release.

We were of an age growing up within the same region,
next door neighbors in a way.
But her heart was ice and I was the sun.

I asked her to prom and she complied,
we danced through the night.
Deep in the pale moon shadows.

We were wed in the fall and loved ‘til the spring,
when the baby she bore took her life.
Her daughter had fire-warmed, blue eyes,
maple syrup hair and a heart that loved the year through.

We’d planted a spruce near the head of my loves grave
and it grew as her daughter did too.
At eighteen a boy came to take her.

I cried for my lost loves then.  


Revised edit with many many thanks to Cyn and Nina who showed me the way.....

Steve




Cyn
This is very touching and now I understand why it has been hard for folks on another forum to crit my poems of loss.
I would like to come back to this one, so I will after a nights slumber.
Thanks for sharing it
CYn
Cyn
I have some tiny suggestions that hopefully do not alter your intent . see bold

Her fire warmed maple syrup eyes, (perhaps the maple syrup  - then line break - of her eyes,)
born in the (of?) winters( add apostrophe) first snow.
her heart was white pure [b](omit and)
cold. (kind of sounded to me like you were going after pure white gold and I liked the image)

Balsam, scotch, blue spruce (switch the order of those last two for sound?) her winter flowers,
great gray owl, the chickadee her birds.
Skiing, snowboarding and skating her passions. (I might just maybe list all these without explaining what they are and wrap it up with that she was these things)

But I was born in the late spring (line break here maybe? or at least a comma) almost summer,
bright blue waters sparkled in my eyes.
angling for trout (again line break or comma) catch and release (Omit my sport?)

We (grew up in) the same region,
next door neighbors in a way.
But her heart was ice and I was the sun.

As years passed I began to love her,
trying to melt her heart and warm her eyes.
at the age of eighteen, our senior prom.

I asked her to go and she complied,
we danced through the night.
Deep in the pale moon shadows.

Although I like these last two verses I might drop them since I think it might just be more powerful without them

We were wed in the fall and loved ‘til the spring,
when the baby she bore took her life.
Her daughter has? fire warmed blue eyes
and maple syrup hair and a heart that loves? the year through.

We’d planted a spruce where my love rests?
and it grew as her daughter did too.
At the age of eighteen a boy came to take her,
I cried for my loves lost?  then.

So it would sound something like this:

Her fire warmed the maple syrup
of her eyes, born of winter's snow.
Her heart was white pure cold.

Balsam, blue spruce, scotch,
great gray owl,  chickadee
Skiing, snowboarding , skating
These are what she was

But I was born in late spring, almost summer,
bright blue waters sparkled my eyes.
angling for trout, catch and release.

We grew up in the same region,
next door neighbors in a way.
But her heart was ice and I was sun.

We wed in fall and loved ‘til spring,
when the baby she bore took her life.
Her daughter has fire-warmed blue eyes
and maple syrup hair
and a heart that loves the year through.

We planted a spruce where my love rests
and it grew as her daughter did too.
At eighteen a boy came to take her,
I cried for my loves lost then.


For me anyway, this says all the things you said but flows for me better toward this powerful ending. Please please do not feel obliged in any way to use this.
Cyn
Nina
Hi Steve

A very poignant sad story.  I like the way to paint the striking differences between the narrator and his wife, in looks, hobbies, birthdates and character and how they complemented each other.  

A few thoughts for you to use or reject as you wish.

[add] {delete} comment

Her fire[-]warmed[,] maple syrup eyes,
born in {the} {w}[W]inter[']s first snow.
{h}[H]er heart {was} white[,] pure and cold.  ..I really like this description

Balsam, scotch, blue spruce her winter flowers,
great gray owl, the chickadee her birds.
Skiing, snowboarding and skating her passions.

{But} I was born in {the} late {s}[S]pring[,] almost {s}[S]ummer,
bright blue waters sparkled in my eyes.  ...you could also say  - my eyes, bright blue sparkling waters
{a}[A]ngling for trout[,] catch and release my sport.  ...I have no idea what catch and release is

We were of an age[,] growing up {within}[in] the same region,
next door neighbors in a way.
But her heart was ice and I was the sun.

As years passed[,] I began to love her,
trying to melt her heart and warm her eyes.
{a}[A]t {the age of} eighteen, our senior prom.

I asked her to go and she complied,
we danced through the night{.}[;]
{D}[d]eep in the pale moon['s] shadow{s}.  ...very romantic

We {were} wed in {the} {f}[F]all and loved ‘til {the} {s}[S]pring,
when the baby she bore took her life.
Her daughter {was}[had] fire[-]warmed[,] blue eyes[,] ....I'm curious as to why you say her daughter rather than our daughter
{and} maple syrup hair and a heart that loved the year through.

We{’d} planted a spruce near the head of my love[']s grave
and it grew as her daughter did too.  ...again ?our daughter
At {the age of} eighteen a boy came to take her{,}[.]  ...I'd suggest a line break here
I cried for my lost loves then.

The ending is so sad.  The narrator had been keeping strong for his daughter and once she went away with her boyfriend, his was finally able to grieve for the wife he had lost and the daughter he had lost as well.  It feels almost as if he was losing his wife again and was now alone.

Her fire-warmed, maple syrup eyes,
born in Winter's first snow.
Her heart white, pure and cold.  

Balsam, scotch, blue spruce her winter flowers,
great gray owl, the chickadee her birds.
Skiing, snowboarding and skating her passions.

I was born in late Spring, almost Summer,
my eyes, bright blue sparkling waters.
Angling for trout, catch and release my sport.  

We were of an age, growing up in the same region,
next door neighbors in a way.
But her heart was ice and I was the sun.

As years passed, I began to love her,
trying to melt her heart and warm her eyes.
At eighteen, our senior prom.

I asked her to go and she complied,
we danced through the night;
deep in the pale moon's shadow.  

We wed in Fall and loved ‘til Spring,
when the baby she bore took her life.
Her daughter had fire-warmed, blue eyes,
maple syrup hair and a heart that loved the year through.

We planted a spruce near the head of my love's grave
and it grew as her daughter did too.  
At eighteen a boy came to take her.

I cried for my lost loves then.


Thanks for sharing this

Nina
ohsteve
Cyn and Nina  thanks for taking the time and reading and the great comments. I will have to put both your versions on word to compare and see what i would like to change.... Nina catch and release is where you go fishing but after you have fought and have the fish in hand you release it back into the water for another fisherman to maybe have some sport with the same one... I have cuahgt a bass the was at least fifteen pounds in weight and stilll had a couple of hooks in his mouth from where he got away from another. Sort of like hunting deer with a camera instead of a gun.... i hope that helps.
steve
ohsteve
Here is the final product....thanks to nina and cyn.


Her fire warmed the maple syrup
of her eyes, born of winter's snow.
Her heart was white pure cold.

Balsam, blue spruce, scotch,
great gray owl,  chickadee
Skiing, snowboarding , skating
These are what she was

But I was born in late spring, almost summer,
bright blue waters sparkled my eyes.
angling for trout, catch and release.

We grew up in the same region,
next door neighbors in a way.
But her heart was ice and I was sun.

We wed in fall and loved ‘til spring,
when the baby she bore took her life.
Her daughter has fire-warmed blue eyes
and maple syrup hair
and a heart that loves the year through.

We planted a spruce where my love rests
and it grew as her daughter did too.
At eighteen a boy came to take her,
I cried for my loves lost then.

Her fire-warmed, maple syrup eyes,
born in Winter's first snow.
Her heart white, pure and cold.  

Balsam, scotch, blue spruce her winter flowers,
great gray owl, the chickadee her birds.
Skiing, snowboarding and skating her passions.

I was born in late Spring, almost Summer,
my eyes, bright blue sparkling waters.
Angling for trout, catch and release my sport.  

We were of an age, growing up in the same region,
next door neighbors in a way.
But her heart was ice and I was the sun.

As years passed, I began to love her,
trying to melt her heart and warm her eyes.
At eighteen, our senior prom.

I asked her to go and she complied,
we danced through the night;
deep in the pale moon's shadow.  

We wed in Fall and loved ‘til Spring,
when the baby she bore took her life.
Her daughter had fire-warmed, blue eyes,
maple syrup hair and a heart that loved the year through.

We planted a spruce near the head of my love's grave
and it grew as her daughter did too.  
At eighteen a boy came to take her.

I cried for my lost loves then
.
Cleo_Serapis
Hi Steve.

Can you us a big favor please?

Can you go up to your original poem, click the EDIT button and ADD this revision to the top please? If you could note the revision too that would be great. We like to see the changes as they are made and it makes it easier to critique the work(s) when it is within the orignal posting.

Thanks so much
Lori gimli.gif
Cyn
ohsteve
Gee whiz, I hope not.

We sure did not mean to rewrite your poem. I will stop ctitiquing for a awhile if that is how you felt. I am sorry.

(or did you simply post the wrong doc, the one you were using to work from?)

Cyn
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