Comes The Winter Poem by bob eichen

The winter comes,
and with it the renewal of hostilities.
The undeclared, but mutually agreed upon truce will end.
The weather of spring and summer is but a warm memory.
While time permitted, the supplies for winter were stockpiled.
Now all the first worlders retreat into their armored citadels,
preparing for the coming battles.
The others, the second, third, and fourth worlders will not be safe.
They will struggle to survive all winter.
Most will die not ever knowing of the war.
The war!
It's been going on for so long!
It will be hard fought and bitter.
No quarter asked, and certainly, none given.
For this is a war of poets, and of poems!
Fought with pens and paper,
and words and words,
and words and words,
and
words.