The Dead Of Winter Poem by David Wood

The bitter cold air can be cut with a knife
Weighed down by a long cruel winter,
Sparrows and robins shiver away their life
While frozen twigs snap underfoot and splinter.

The early evenings damp mist swirls aloft.
The city streets, now empty and dark.
That cold night air, anything but soft,
Freezing everything frigid and stark.

A blustery icy cold wind slaps at your face,
A homeless man covered in yesterday news
Sleeps in a doorway about to lose life's race
Enters the long eternal dream, his final cruise.

As people walk on by, or simply look away.
He once had a home, a job and even a name.
But all that now gone as winter seeks its prey.
Yet, when all is said and done, who is to blame?

In the morning, the street will be swept clean
And a new bitterly cold damp day begins,
Where the wind will blow, hard and mean,
And life will continue, for all our sins.