The Touch of Winter
Sadness fell as a blanket of winter weariness,
As abrupt as a winter storm in the height of spring.
I thought I was free,
As the crispy leaves crunched beneath my feet,
But no.
The snow descends, heavier than before
Irrepresible. It is duplicitous in its guise of purity.
Its presence envelops me,
Further I am sinking as more snow collects upon the shoulders of my mantle.
I sink as children sing,
I pray as children play.
They build a snowman as I sink and fall apart and become:
no man.
They cherish the moment as they know the sun will return.
But even in brevity, the touch of sadness lingers,
Clinging like a new-born child
Who knows no better.
But I know.
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