A Rare Mourning


The snow, a blanket of cold
Beholding the sun as, slowly, she rises -
Shivers at her sight
And curses the clouds that, deliberately,
Seem to shorten the dream
As they, illuminated, flee
Exposing her to the light
Skies; have mercy!
Day; be kind!
And do not rid the landscape of a beauty
That is so rare to find
Wish you not to see innocence descent?
The whole world cloaked in white
Then spare this rude awakening
No, don't let Winter say goodnight...