Winter Without End Poem by Vincent Bayer

The cruel wind cries
Like a wounded animal,
While the days crawl by
In a long slow death march.
And the world seems to cower
In desolate despair
Beneath a sky so gray and cold
Even angels seek refuge
From winters jagged hand...

The sun has descended
Into the realm of myth.
Only spoken of in reverent whispers
Like a long departed king.
And warmth and light
Are just colorful metaphors
Used to describe the fading memory
Of a long gone summer day.


This winter never ends...