As the day grows cold...

Another no date. I rather like this one though...



As the day grows cold,
They tell me the sun will rise
And warm up this wretched land.
As the day presses on,
I search the skies for this
Sun they speak of,
For any sign of warmth from the heavens.
As time goes by,
I know warmth will come.
I know what they say is true
For I have felt it once before.
I have seen this sun
And felt its warmth upon my skin.
But the day goes on,
And the snow is growing deeper.
There is light,
But it is only the moon,
Only a reflection of that
Which will truly warm me.
There is only a specter
Of what I truly long for.
I trudge through this bleak wasteland
Hoping beyond hope
That the sun will rise.
As the day grows cold,
I try to warm my hands,
My face,
My fingers are numb.
My eyes search frantically
Across the skies
For anything that will give me warmth.
They told me the sun will rise.
They told me this darkness will fade,
This cold will dissolve,
This pain will end.
They told me the sun will rise.
I pass the barren trees
Suppressed by this eternal winter.
Their branches have been bare
For many years now.
They told me the trees will bloom,
The peach blossoms will fill the branches
With their beautiful color,
The dogwood will shine in the sunlight
With pure white,
The air will be fragrant with the smell of roses.
They told me this beauty would come.
I venture on
Through this desolate wasteland,
Still searching for a hint of color
Or a spot of warmth.
I try to remember the last time
I felt the sun's rays upon my skin,
When these furs were not needed
To keep my body from freezing.
I try to envision the petals
Of the flowers covering the tree branches,
Or the animals running across fields of green.
An infant's screams enter these thoughts
And I open my eyes to the world around me.
Nothing but bare branches
Bearing the weight of winter
On their boughs.
No animals dare to brave the cold
To cross this vast expanse of white before me.
The mother of the child
Holds the baby close,
Shielding him from the harsh winds.
The world is harsh to these,
The weak and innocent
That cannot yet fend for themselves.
Their blood runs cold
Before their hearts can become strong,
Before their hearts become cold
Like this world around us.
Only the strong survive
In this world of grief.
As the day grows colder,
I try not to think of
The life that will soon be lost,
Of the tears that will soon be shed
And frozen
Before they hit the ground.
Grief does not last long
Where love cannot live.
They told me the sun would rise
As we climbed over the peak.
I see the horizon
Broken by the jagged peaks
And miles away
The darkness still prevails.
A lone voice says
You cannot have the sun,
You will not have the flowers.
I know this must be true
But I cannot let it be.
The edge looks inviting
But I will press on.
The cold could easily take me,
But I will search for the land
Where the sun shines
On the peach blossoms,
Where birds chirp
In the branches of the dogwood,
And where love sleeps
In the shade of a willow
Weeping over the river.