Abdicate Poem by Brian Kilpatrick

Into the cold wind I stare with hate
Until it forces me to abdicate
I cannot see my enemies face
But in the trees I see his trace
As he whispers in my ears
A reminder from long lost years
His cool caress on my face
Immortal wounds the wind does trace
It speaks of heaven and screams for grace
At last I turn again for one more taste
Wisdom whispers and leaves it trace
Along the almost frozen ground
I struggle mightily to hear the sound
The author heard but cannot be found
Whispers reminders of sins and love
Are mixed with his body and blood
Are all mingled into his eternal love