The Coming Of The Spring Poem by Trevor Toews

It was winter
And I was cold…
Steel fists were clenched around my stubborn heart
My bitter tears
Escaped and froze
The icy blast a thousand burning darts.

And darkness slowly wrapped me
In its ruthless folds
The last hope faded, I was alone
And I was cold…

I lit a fire to entertain my longing
It helped, without a doubt.
But fuel was scarce, and I grew tired of searching,
The fire went out.

I piled on more clothing, but in time
I only felt the chill again
For layers of defense, regardless of their number
Still don't keep the cold from coming in.

The fingers clawed me to my senseless knees,
The tightening grip
Squeezed a plaintiff, desperate whisper from
My cracking lips.

I could not have lived a moment longer
When dawn at length revealed my still, dark form
Friendship was the cheerful sun,
Encouragement was bright,
And Love was warm.

And yet one day of sun is not enough.
That passing warmth must answer other becks and calls,
And while it lifts the faint, and melts a little ice,
Inevitably, night falls…

I am convinced, that in the end,
The only certain thing,
That truly drives the cold away,
Is the coming of The Spring.