Cold Hands, Cold Heart

Nature's Symphony

I sat outside oneday,

I heard the scream of the wind.

I heard the agony of the trees.

I heard as they told me their stories.

The trees told me of the tears they drank.

The wind told me of the screams she heard.

The sound of children too young.

Of youth free yet so broken.

The trees told me of the scars on their bark.

Of lovers that were broken forever ago.

Of the tears that landed on their roots.

I heard the whispers of the pure snow.

How it whispered;
"I know. I know of humans.
They all are masters at pretending they are okay."

The wind chimed in,
"Oh yes. Masters of deception."

The trees spoke;
"No, masters of cruelty."

And the symphony of nature drifted on.

And on

And on.