Same Old Song

The torn remain of what was plain waves now ore frozen ground, in winds that blow cold ice and snow and other feelings down. There isn’t much left in a touch to calm the trembling hand. For winter’s chill falls colder still in cloak across the land. The settled dust and cankered rust guard safe against the grain, while fading dim from deep within gives root to growing pain. How did it go from there to here? How could it end so wrong? A love once whole, two lives once full… yet still the same old song.