The Darkest Winter Lives In The Heart Poem by Patti Masterman

The darkest winter lives in the heart
And pale are the fires, on dread winter's hearth;
Cold is the welcoming, cold is the blast,
Cold is the future, fresh from the past.

The heart of a man is unhallowed ground,
In his quick eye, all the gentleness drowns;
Scratching a living, from out the earth's bowels
While hope lies forgotten, amidst all his vows.

Even earth herself turns, like a fool in his grave;
Days spinning by, till there's nothing to save,
Love could not move him away from that gate;
By the end he is running, toward his own fate.