The writing’s on the wall;
I didn’t want to read it,
But I know I must.
Time is a gift,
I’m saddened by her squander—
Missing the sunrise.
It is all hide and seek,
Both exciting and painful;
She hides—I seek.
When this game concludes,
There will be winners or losers—
I tremble in fear.
…
When the sturdy pine bows,
And the songbirds fight for seed,
The cold will set to the bone.
In the darkness of enduring winter,
Our tears will burn our cheeks.