Spring Never Comes Poem by Dennis Lange

Winter wore me, chilled my bones,
Till I could take no more;
Too full of tossing, tired of groans,
Like Job, entire, a sore.

I braced myself; I took a stand
Against her, though I be
Not free of stain, but with a hand
Lined with a history.

I said to Winter, 'Turn your course
Away from wreaking pain,
From racking cold and clammy force
That Spring may come again.'

'You once were Spring; I loved you then.
But as the days went by,
The blossom was a once-had-been,
A faded lullaby.'

'Brutal Winter, change your ways;
Relent, and Spring return.
Your hurt and harm can bring no praise.
It is for Spring I yearn.'

Affronted, Winter's furrowed face
A frozen front did send,
Like roaring rage devoid of grace,
A blast of bitter wind.

I turned away to shelter, numb;
I realized the fact:
That Spring will never ever come;
Winter's the final act.