In Winter's Bereft Poem by Peter S. Quinn

No one is left
only me and my memoires,
in winter's bereft
of leafless tress.

My days are all going
into the lost,
summer once glowing
now it has crossed.

Life is a memory
times aren't still,
the roads on are free
for others to fulfill.

Merry go 'round
sisters and brothers,
new times are found
gone are the others.

Each time and ways
giving so much,
memorable days
magical their touch.

Through years' time
we had its treasures,
life was in prime
- many its pleasures.