Winter is here
to sharpen my misery...
Weathered with time
ivy covered and cold.
Gates rusted and broken
sway in the wind.
Winter is here
torturing all with the whip
of its frigid winds,
nipping and biting ,
As I circle my empty table
the bittersweet berries make an orange blaze
to keep me company
I stare, and think maybe
the Christmas will come even for me
If I were young perhaps I would sing
about the bowl of the earth
filled with the coolness of the snowflowers
Perhaps the dew of the stars
would sparkle
on the night blue meadow but
now chills are early and late,
as if, around to keep a date
with the coming ice, soon or late
after their colors
will meet my fate on the christmas eve
of my songs.
But the songs of youth are frozen here
only the tired song of me
at the Christmas table..