I do not welcome the winter cold.
It plagues my bones with painful joints.
That hurt so much that even saints
Curse the winter, or so I’m told.
Add grief to this brew of misery
And I would weep through all my hours
For her and my bones. I have done with tears.
Reality has come for me.
The dark comes down to rest my soul.
My joints cry out for some relief
My heart cries out to ease my grief.
Around me lighter shadows pool
Against the dying day. Tomorrow
Will be warmer pundits say.
I’ll struggle through this winter day
And set the night aside for sorrow.