Winter, Winter

Winter, winter

By John Divinagracia

 

 

Winter, winter, growing bright,

Upon the traveller deep at night.

Awash with hope the wanderer weaves

Across the mountains and the trees.

 

Winter, winter, growing bright,

A shining lamp burns with light.

Laden, lathered, adorned by faith,

Around the oceans and the lakes.

 

Winter, winter, growing bright,

An old man I see in sight.

He wears the cold and darkness shown,

As I herald this lantern sewn.

 

Winter, winter, growing bright,

How your heart cuts mine alright.

To you I weave my frozen grave,

To the old man, my lamp, I gave.

 

Winter, winter, growing bright,

Upon the traveller deep at night.

Sans of hope the wanderer leaves,

Leaving a fire amidst the trees.