Winter (There Is A Fear Clinging To You) Poem by Gert Strydom

There is a fear clinging to you
when you come as sign of decay,
that the days of a person can also suddenly turn to this,
can become lifeless with the going of time,

with no thunder smashing down invisible
and there is a beauty to you,
while piercing winds are blowing,
when you are stripped but still living

as if at times you carry a cloak of death,
are stripped from alacrity, from growth and every urge
as if something disconsolate comes in life,
as if for new life you are waiting in vain

and then after days of rest new buds appear,
the iron bolts are broken with time.