Winter encroaches on my mind so tenderly,

with icy fingers of torpid insistence

freezing the marrow, clotting existence.

 Remembered, yet unseen, memories change

and glow awhile with recollection's gold...

"we were so young, the world so bright, so cold!"

Winter admits no rival, in this place,

 where it devours the very light of hope, sovereign,

plunging hearts into gloom, where bare bones reign.

it casts the spirit, seeking oblivion in Morpheus' embrace,

frozen limbs, twisted to foetal knots, and pallid face.

Then, nothing… no love, no wants, no warmth, no touch,

Winter has swallowed all the light and crept

at the foundations of the World, the place Life slept.

There can be no stirring from this grasp of ice

where the soul must meet defeat and learn surrender,

Winter's a thorough teacher, harsh, and solemn, yet so tender.

Before the freshness of the spring returns again

to that, the prison where the spirit lies, in darkness,

Winter will exact its tribute of sorrow and of sadness.

Year after year it will return to train the souls of men

to accept the earthly yoke of death and of decay

There in the soil, hidden, the frigid fingers lay

ready to sprout again to greet  the Solstice sun