While the Trees Sleep

Candle lights flicker and soon dim.

Cold air through the window cracks, presses against the heater's labor.

Frigid white takes life.

Takes life.

Its comes down softly, enchanting and killing.

And while the trees sleep, I whisper to You that I'd like to swing again.

Not today, not today.

Today the earth is content in death.

A beautiful death, but death nonetheless.

The bud droops under icy weight, and relents it cannot keep it's petals.

The bird returns with no worm.

The sky fakes no comfort.

And we wait...