Sentiments Congealed Poem by Patrick Czyz

As I sit inside,
I see the park wherein I played.
I see the tennis court
-A landmark of summer joy.
Those were the sunny times.

Now I see the trees stand rigidly upright
Like lifted skeletons lacking leafy flesh.
The congealed ground is decayed
By falling snow as if by spreading mold.

If sight be the only sense,
I'd applaud those other hidden torments.
If this life be the only one,
I'd applaud it anyway
-My gratefulness won.