A Winter's Tale

Crow lines wrinkle the sky. Bare trees pole dance with a naked wind. A clattering rain washes winter's watery eye's. A man walks with himself. His great coat belted tight, a frozen bonnet of thorns upon his chilled head. Only the empty graves of yesteryears can see him. Only tombs and crypts may greet him. Only the long lost, long forgot may follow, as they walk within themselves one step behind.