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.
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