Cold
Cold, I am so cold,
and I’m growing colder
all the while that I’m getting
older . . . older . . . older.
You took away my sunshine.
You – my youth’s desire -
you vanished and then stole away
my strong once-blazing fire.
You took away the honey.
You took away the gold,
the finch and his sweet song,
and all the romance left untold.
The sunflowers from my garden
no longer can I hold.
The garden stopped growing
as I kept growing old.
Cold, I am so cold,
and I’m growing colder
all the while that I’m getting
older . . . older . . . older.
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2023
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