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Poem

The sun fades away behind this icy veil,
Making the hearts of the hopeful grow stale.
A cold chill pierces this land of flesh,
While long and lonely nights mock any chance to refresh.

The season of death is very near,
A time filled with sorrow and fear.
No holiday can replace the beating sun,
Long days outside of laughter and fun.

So speak no more of your jolly fat man,
Who is covered in frost and could use a tan.
Make no snow angels beside the street,
For I will erase them with these two feet.

This forsaken time could be no worse,
A season of doom to cement my wretched curse.
The wildlife is dying before my eyes,
Trees and plants wither gaining my sighs.

Like the rest of nature I prepare for the storm,
However as always I am lacking sufficient form.
Well at least there is hot coco,
That lovely drink keeps me from being completely loco.

So here I am sipping my beverage,
Which as stated before gives me some leverage.
Each day gets colder than the other,
As I gasp for air through winters smother.

This season will come despite my complaints,
So I might as well endure it like the saints.
I pray for the time to pass gently,
Deciding that I shall not count these minutes so intently.

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