Winter's Rolling Hours
Winter’s Rolling Hours
The gaiety has cooled to a simmering halt,
Joy punctuated by death and loss,
The nerves vibrating like a trembling violin,
The books on the desk reflecting cost.
So silent is the now of a sunshine day,
A Sunday without pressure of the world,
To recover, to reflect what did it all say,
As a New Year begins to unfurl.
A dream of spring when the jonquils bloom,
And redbuds begin to flower,
The buds of birth our hearts to renew,
Goodbye and away to winter’s rolling hours.
Copyright © Sunlite Wanter | Year Posted 2019
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