Time To Go...

TIME TO GO

Winter cramps my hands,
a wind blows in my bones.
Under a mound of snow
the dead lie packed in eternity.

A rubbish of leaves
scatter in a frozen mirage,
tossing in an endless
promise of dawn.

I try waving a wand
like a mad Merlin,
casting a spell
to change strands of icicles
into a budding bough.

Still, the cold day primps
and struts like an aging whore,
full of bravado,
as if we weren't praying
for her to call it a day.

copyright/all rights reserved/ 2011



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