Spring is asleep, autumns gone, winter arises.
Time for my morning coffee warm.
A cup for summer, fall and winter,
Drink do I, and always wonder,
When will my last cup be.
Heat on my head, snow cold around my shoes,
The wind whispers the many secrets of dawn.
A song of many, heard by any,
Known only to the berries,
That grow in this biting cold.
Oh summer fireflies where have you gone,
To light up some other summer dawn?
The nights are lonely dark and cold,
My cup is no longer whole,
Winter is here to stay.
YOU ARE READING
Often confusing
PoetrySecond part to a muses musings because wattpad has a story limit. . . I mean an enthralling book of stories
