Winter knew he was gone.

The season saw us all alone,

And so winter snowed and snowed.

Bare trees wept and groaned,

The silent white morning

Mourned his spirit going.

The dead leaves bowed down,

The dark sky made no sound

As flakes fell to the ground-

Respectful silence all around.

And our hearts were hurt, and raged

For his going now, at this age.

He left us like the sun

In winter’s clutches, light was done.

The darkened void he left-

Felt more than just a death.

Snow covered our depression

In hopes the pain would lessen.

The cold season sat beside us.

It sat unmoving, cried with us.

Died with us.

O White winter, bleak and bare,

O Metaphor of soul’s despair,

Deep drifting blanket still and frozen,

As a cold memorial, you’re chosen.

O Winter unremoved, unfinished,

Leave us now!  Our hope’s diminished.

By JB Morris- Poems, Prose, and Possibilities- mostly about life, sometimes about God, with brief interludes concerning shoe addiction.

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