Miserable drizzle, from a sky of grey,
A north wind slaps me in the face.
The God's of winter at work and play,
And over all, a Cimmerian haze.
Frozen rain from a cold dreary sky,
Skeletal trees creaking in pain.
Slowly everything has begun to die,
And little by little I go insane.
Slippery sidewalks, downed power lines,
Crystallized grass crackles and cries.
The only green visible, are the Norfolk pines,
And to the south the feathered wings fly.
I dream of tomorrow alone in my room,
Looking out through my window pane.
Then the golden sunshine will dispelled the gloom,
And winter's grip will commence to wane.
1/15/2015
ALTON TEXAS
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem