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.
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