The Winter Chill

Harsher days than this,
There have been.

My remembrance of them,
Sharp
and crisp,
Like their air.

And though this morning holds the promise of a chill.
It is simply wet and fraudulent.

Where is the frozen milk bottle?
The silver lace of bitter dew?
The treachery of ice
and the joy of snow?

The seasons used to change us,
But now I see we have changed them,
And it sends me a shiver.

That my memories of cold winters past
can be as warm
as the one before me.



Poetry by CJ Perrin
Read 409 times
Written on 2011-02-21 at 16:02

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