It's snowing again,
slowly at first, but now
it's falling in small flakes,
that quickly turn to rain.
From the dark clouded skies
the bitter cold winds blow
through the barren oaks.
There's no budding leaves,
no blooming flowers, just
dripping water that soaks.
No sunshine, no warm breezes,
no scampering squirrels, no robins,
blue birds or humming of bees.
Winter is still here,
and my soul is tired.
My aging bones ache
with the pain of my
satire.
Time is running out, and all I have
left to do, is set around and reminisce
about those days forgone.
Ah! For those days!
The bright warm sunshine, the white sand and dark blue sea.
Oh! I can still see her standing in those crashing waves
and see her raven black hair flowing in the summer breeze.
No one will ever know the love we shared and the life we lived.
That was a long, long time ago.
Oh! Melancholy me!
I think I'll have another glass of wine.
Guess what?
It's still raining.
