Winters Grave
by aylin{FS}

Winter winds howl, fierce and mean.
Days creep by slowly, one dark hour after another.
Nothing marks the passage of time,
except the constantly swinging pendulum,
and the snow that climbs to tap on frosted glass.
Loneliness etches itself into the soul,
cold as a grave at midnight.
Spring lies buried deep in the subconscious,
waiting, craving warmth to melt
the tightness that entombs it.
With each inch of every hour,
each swing of pendulum day,
body and soul fight.
Trembling, the sweet bud of a smile,
waits to be allowed laughter.
The song that lays silent in the heart,
waits for the harmonizing trill of robins.
But for now, silence holds tight, and
winter winds howl, fierce and mean.