Avenues

The cold sky scowls and runs its icy fingers down my spine
Your memory prowls and skulks in shadows with no clear design
Gray melancholy raindrops weep from heaven’s darkened berth
To shards of summer’s withered heap and June’s forgotten mirth

Desire wanes within the clutch of Autumn’s empty shell
To crave lost passion’s candid touch imbues a silent hell
There is no window to the past; no door that we can choose
To wander in the trampled grass of bygone avenues

The tree does not become a tree by dying in the cold
And we begin who we will be long before we are old
The dreamer does not die until his will to dream is gone
So too my love for you will thrive; true love is never done

The cold sky scowls and runs its icy fingers down my spine
The blue wind howls and thoughts of you flow dark as blood-red wine
A kaleidoscope of love and grief and longing paints the day
As summer in each little leaf is coldly swept away

J~

Today is wet and nasty and cold...and 'I'm gonna cry if I want to.'
and then I'll enjoy it, perfect for staying indoors and doing things we love
like reading and writing, perhaps.
and if the sky is scowling at you, smile back! It really does feel good:)