Spring is Late
Spring knocked on the door,
Yet winter refused to surrender.
In the heart of the night,
The cold drafty wind howls,
Filled with the cries of secret lives & dwellings.
Loneliness & darkness surrounds me,
Only to creep into the depth of my soul,
Black is no longer a color,
My thoughts are no longer one.
My waiting is surprised,
Depression surrounds me,
Fogginess lures me,
Desperation hunts me.
Seconds draw into minutes,
That soon lingers into hours,
That later become days,
Eventually turning into months,
Before they transform into years,
Only to die,
Leaving the loneliness
& darkness to creep once again.
Hollow & dark!
Yet spring is late once again,
& winter lingers on,
Leaving me alone,
Alone
In the cold, dark, depressing, lonely lingering night.
2007-05-15
06:26:32
·
7 answers
·
asked by
Midnight Butterfly
2
in
Arts & Humanities
➔ Poetry