Sonnet 165, The Streets Are Empty... Poem by Peter S. Quinn

The streets are empty for winter is still here,
With the somberness of weeks still to come;
The swift winds of tomorrow with its glum,
May swirl away darkness needing a steer.
And when the sky is blue once more and clear,
As frost roses so dimly fade its numb;
As briskly more colours spring will on strum,
When growth of summer again's coming near.
We fade away like roses in winter's sky,
For we are like flowers that fall its leaf;
And time is what we have to work and apply,
Moments are so few and yet so very brief.
All pleasures worth its share on earth will die,
And everything gone is memories and grief.