The Long Wintered Heart

The seasons of the heart stop turning When the last coal of hope stops burning... The long wintered heart doth endow Slumber, waiting for spring to come Like the field that awaits the plow Or, a seed that waits to become. But no plow can break that frozen ground Nor, can precious seeds of love be found... It's a land where hope has vanished That place called the long wintered heart Where spring is forever banished And, where winter never departs. A dying land refusing to die Frozen in pain beneath ashen skies... A barren land with no cities That's crowned a clown for it's king A clown robed in blue self pity Like, a blue bird that cannot sing. No birds sing, no kingdom for the king No summer's growth, no hope for a queen... Yes, I know of this wintered place In that wasteland there rules a clown Who stole my name, and wears my face With my smile painted upside down. Timothy I. Brumley