December

I wrote this almost a decade ago and I'd like to dedicate it to my father. His life continues to remind me that spring follows winter.

* * *

Is this the end? he asks me soon
as we fade in the light of a waning moon
and in the dusk an ice wind blows
to chill the heart and splinter bones
a tired sky looks on

oh will I find immortal mirth
from grievous toil of forsaken birth?
forget me not with tired eyes
with forgetful foggy lullabies
I once had life

I once had heart and faith and trust
and spirit like bones that haven't been crushed
by heavy weight of love despised
by bitter tears, unanswered cries
lonely man with hollow eyes
walks alone through tired skies
is this the end? he asks me still

i have no heart to tell him no