In Winter (by PSW)

Written in winter.

 

Grey is the sky and

Grey the rain,

Grey the trees and ground.

In due course the winter came, and

though it’s every year the same

the bleakness past my

windowpanes

seems shocking and profound.

What power does this season hold

o’er me? Indeed, it settles in

my mind

and in my bones, and leaves me tired

and alone.

But not my soul.

No, not my soul, for though the world be

dim and grey

and looks to always stay that way

I know that there will come a day

when I’ll be free—

upon the trees or in between,

Spring’s first new glimpse of

Green.

2 thoughts on “In Winter (by PSW)

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