When All  Things Are Dead Or Dying
unpublished

  Loathsome are these winter days

When all things are dead or dying

Or like me hiding, waiting for this winter to pass

Looking out of the window each morn

Searching for the summer sun

Yet it is as it was yesterday, snow covered frozen grass

Oh how I hate these winter nights

Long and longer they have become

While all those lovely summer’s day went by much, much too fast

Winter is much like a love grown old

Where the once lovers love no more

And whatever happiness was, is now happiness lost to the past

Or perhaps winter is more like an old coat

Not enough there to keep out the cold

Not enough there to make the heat held in, be a heat that lasts

Held fast by winter’s cold fingered night

I dream about the summer sun

Waking from that warmth I find no escape from winter’s grasp.

Way too long these winter days remain

And yes, deep down I silence the thought

that with so many winters gone, will this winter be my last

I say I hate these winter days

When, truth be told, these winter days I fear

Like winters before, age has me praying this winter too come to pass