Old winter's bite has bruised my cheek
like parchment my thin skin crackles.
Indoors I hide, my bones creak,
my fragile form in cold shackles.
Unwanted guest please desist, oh leave,
return the warmth of sunny skies
and springtime's gentle flowery weave.
Be gone, go, this aged maiden cries.
For I've no use for your howling,
your ice lakes or snowy trees;
there's no sense in all your growling
jail key's which rattle don't appease.
Copyright © Debbie Guzzi