Statuary Grey
Winter whitewashes Autumn's decay,
and yet, you hope that Spring will soon show.
But, as snowflakes bury Fall's array,
depression deepens with each fresh snow.
Snow-laden trees, like sculptures of clay;
stand exposed, chiseled by a sharp breeze.
And stenciled in statuary grey,
outstretched fingers of bare branches freeze.
A brisk breeze wrestles your breath away,
in the grip of an unyielding cold.
And muting the sound of children's play,
melancholy thoughts firmly take hold.
A stormy day causes nerves to fray,
as doldrums brood within shadows cast.
And folks speculate on Spring's delay,
damping hopes that this weather won't last.
Purple and scarlet ink the sun's rays,
and yet, sunset chills you to the bone.
For as twilight dims on dreary days,
you feel depressed, shut in, and alone.
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