WINTER SLUMBER

WINTER SLUMBER This is the winter of my life Cold fingers, reading glasses, alone It used to be spring then it was summer But autumn was the hint of things to come That nip in the air as the year fast matured Sensing that warmth seeping softly away Hot pulsing blood merely a memory And now it is this long silent wait If I should sleep, I may not wake Yet permanent slumber calls This is the winter of my life