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
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