A Winter's Chill

A winter’s chill has taken hold - a grip that cannot be controlled. And with it, creeping, comes a dread which, having settled in my head, has brought me back to things foretold. . . . to things I’d learned before the cold. Long time before my growing old, I could not grasp there lay ahead. . . a winter’s chill. For in my youth, I was cajoled by hope’s sweet voice, and all was gold. Recalling Scriptures that I read and seeing sanity now fled, I see before my eyes unfold. . . a winter’s chill.