Email Poem

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Poem

I woke up today and found
frost perched on my town.
It hovered in a frozen sky and gobbled summer down.
When the sun turns traitor cold
and shivering trees are standing in a naked row,
I get the urge for going, but I never seem to go.
I get the urge for going when the meadow grass is turning brown.
Summertime is falling down. 
Winter's closing in.
I had a girl in summertime with summer colored skin
and not another man in town my darling's heart could win.
When the leaves fell trembling down
and bully winds did rub our faces in the snow,
she got the urge for going and I had to let her go.
She got the urge for going when the meadow grass was turning brown.
Summertime was falling down
and winter was closing in.
The warriors of winter give a cold triumphant shout.
All that stay are dying and all that live are getting out.
Do you see the geese in flight flapping and racing on before the snow?
They have the urge for going and they have the wings to go.
They get the urge for going when the meadow grass is turning brown
and when summertime is falling down,
when winter is closing in.
I'll tend my fire with kindling and draw the blankets to my chin
and I'll lock the vagrant winter out and alter my wandering in.
I'd like to call back summertime and have her stay for just another month or so
but she got the urge for going and I guess she'll have to go.
She got the urge for going when the meadow grass began turning brown.
All her empires are falling down.
Winter's closing in.

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