Attrition

Spring is come but the weather still cold Does not promise we can bloom again We face wild winds in struggles so bold It does not living can be void of pain My children, eyes expectant, scan me For hope, and I am tortured to provide Between myself and the city’s industry The door is thick and the gulf is wide. Spring is come, let birds and frogs believe And sing for barren skies of blue, or sing Forgetting me where crest fallen I grieve For the squander of youth, and lost of wing