Every day we ride our local roads;
We paint our lovely homes;
We decorate them to our liking;
Make our love there in honeycombs.
We do our best to prepare,
To secure the place we call our own.
We prepare for a winter striking,
Knowing there will come a winter storm.
The roads are closed in my hometown;
Winter's hit it hard again.
The power's out, there, where I'm from;
It'll be back on… just don't know when.
I'm away, not home, but, I get the news;
I couldn't go back, if I wanted to.
So, there's not really any choice to choose;
I said all I could say; did all I could do.
I wouldn't go back, if I was able to.
We can only live Life from day to day;
And accept that warmth may leave us;
Have patience knowing that Life's unfolding,
As it should, in all ways, and won't deceive us.
The roads are closed in my hometown;
Winter's hit it hard again.
The power's out, there, where I'm from;
It'll be back on… just don't know when.
The snow hangs heavy on the trees…
That white gold that can cut both ways.
It can brighten your world, or make you freeze,
But, as Frost said, "Nothing gold can stay".
The days will surely warm again,
And suns will melt the winter cover.
Seasons change and green will reign,
And, our hearts will open, and recover.
The roads are closed in my hometown;
Winter's hit it hard again.
The power's out… but, I'm not down;
It'll be back on, just don't know when.
It will be back on…
Just don't know when.
2-6-2016 (State College, PA)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem