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Poem

troubles low in the summer end
anticipation of foreign winds
you pray hoping that it's not the end
hope and wish and pray again
fall is here as the winter speaks
a lone whisper to the falling leaves
build your fire for brief reprieve

your warmth soon withers far away
the sun rays are gone from yesterday
no more sounds of the games that children play
the silences of self you can't escape
all eat your hopes away

Winter's longer than you've stressed
troubles high and winds aggressed
the storms are coming winds abreast, the devil scorn
he means your death
the lands are barren,nothing left
our usual joys subject to theft

winter's here
winter's here
winter is here
show no fear

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