Beneath the curtain of late autumn’s rage,
I taste the breath of winter.
The rose is dead, the leaves are beige,
The branches, shreds of a splinter.
The shadows cast, are long and dark,
The frost that sprawls, so stings me,
It’s icy fingers chase away the lark,
And feed the sadness within me.
Amongst the sorrow of the night,
In the chill of winter’s call,
The sky is vast with much light,
The moon, a sliver of a ball.
Trapped within a memory still,
You are free to break my heart.
Tears, down my face they spill,
No stopping what you start.
Lost and lonely and harshly cold,
I am but a forgotten dream.
Yet through my pain I am told
Things are but what they seem.
Winter will be soon with all its might,
But last I saw you had a warm glow.
That if I should see you on Christmas night,
Please wrap yourself up with a bow.
I want to meld your lips with mine,
And nourish the love I still feel.
Touch the heavens, you are divine.
Lord, let the vision be real.
For shall I wake to find you gone,
A Christmas wish I’d give you:
Should this heartbreak linger on,
For my death I will forgive you.