The Cold/The Passing

troubles low in the summer end anticipation of foreign winds you pray hoping that it's not the end hope and wish and pray again fall is here as the winter speaks a lone whisper to the falling leaves build your fire for brief reprieve your warmth soon withers far away the sun rays are gone from yesterday no more sounds of the games that children play the silences of self you can't escape all eat your hopes away Winter's longer than you've stressed troubles high and winds aggressed the storms are coming winds abreast, the devil scorn he means your death the lands are barren,nothing left our usual joys subject to theft winter's here winter's here winter is here show no fear