The Long Wintered Heart

Written by: Timothy Brumley

The seasons of the heart stop turning
When last the coals of hope quit 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 from 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