Winter Wind

this season of the dead returns again
And so once more I shall raise up my pen
Therefore to cry out to the warmth that’s fled
To warn of all the bitterness ahead
Before I must retire to my den.

There I would hide, as should all summer’s men
So, I advise to all who will hearken
Those who love warmth and comfort still must dread
This season of the dead

For those who love the trees out in the glen
Will surely morn within this season when
The summer’s leaves the barren trees have shed
And a frozen shell blockades the river bed
Within this season of the dead.
Unknown "Ignigenae" Loyal - 16 years, 10 months, 17 days ago