When Winter comes calling around, an icy wind blowing,
Leaves rattle in the branches, as a fog comes rolling!
The homeless one on the ground lies shivering,
Thin rug and blanket cold comfort give!
A season so harsh that the ill might not see it through,
And so comes the reaper with his scythe so sharp,
To prune away those that lose the will to live,
Sparing none, nor rich nor poor!
The little children are seen not in streets nor schools,
Parents fearing to lose them in a fog so thick!
Dogs lie curled, chilled, confounded; barks
And snarls turned to whimpers soft!
Winter therefore is a season to bind; rich with poor,
Man and bird, animals and plants into company
Firm as together they have to face
A marauder with scythe so sharp!
As the wind bites into flesh and bones so deep,
Where one and more shiver so deep,
Wishing for the godly sun to peep,
And curtains of fog to part!
So does a blanket of cold and fog mantle the world
In a tight embrace so cold, a silence so profound,
Where laughter and cries of joy be muffled,
As the cold reaper ranges around!
Technorati Tags: A Winter Spell