Winter

Early morning 6am,
just before the footprints came.
Crisp deep snow with powdered top,
just before the snowdrops crop.
Scattered jewels in lunar light,
winter's cold begins to bite.

There's nothing quite like wintertime,
robins' plumage, church bells' chime.
The frigid sounds of nature's song,
just before the days grow long.
Such happy times, our future glowed,
just before the episode.

The college lake was there before;
it's hidden now, awaiting thaw.
I held her hand and smiled again,
just before the jagged pain.
I reached for her, I screamed her name,
just before the heartache came.

There's nothing quite like wintertime,
robins' plumage, church bells' chime.
The frigid sounds of nature's chill,
just before the slide downhill.
Times I'll never see again...
just before the footprints came.

By Alan Dickie