The coming of winter
The slide begins
Down down into the cold and dark
The journey commences with goblins and ghosts
Then stuffing ourselves and bird near to bursting
Madness follows, frenzied.
Glitzy and bright trying to
Cover the ever-empty and sad
Days of imprisonment, an ice bound jail
School tomorrow? Will we or won’t we?
Frozen in time, waiting for…
What? What am I waiting for?
That which will never take place?
The thaw will come
The spring will come
The warmth will return
But he will not return
Ever.
j. chapman
October 2014
