What if Winter and its doldrums
Were to last forever and never end?
How do we know which laying down
Is our last, our deathbed, our end?
That cold, that weary affliction
From which we shall not rise again?
Winter does not grip us, it spurns
Leaving nowhere to put our feet
Once in Springtime naked we lay
With joyful ease, warm breeze and sun
Now thick layers keep us apart
Stained with grime of our resentments
Kisses once given in fullness
Now rare and icy in the chill
Pressing of bodies, warm embrace
Longed for, yet not, in Winter's sway
Will the snow ever melt away?
Is our last Spring now behind us?
The final time with a lover
You know only in looking back
The Winter of our discontent
There is no path back to past Springs
Is there a Spring in the future?
Can a frozen heart thaw again?
April is National Poetry Writing Month