Winter

She rubbed her palms heavily,
Stamped with her yellow shoes.
Like the wailing mist around,
She could see sorrow grow.
To turn pages all day,
To hear the roar outside,
The million welled up things within,
Songs scrapped, tunes to hide.
To bury a sigh in the blanket
To dig for memories in the overcoat,
Like the wailing mist around,
She could see sorrow grow.
Today passed on the streets,
Tomorrow travelled too,
Trepidity danced in vacant rooms,
Hope lay on dirty floors,
Like the wailing mist around,
She could see sorrow grow.
They came, and they came,
He went on,
He went away,
She folded away happiness,
Left hope on the shabby roof,
The memories gasped a little
Tried hanging on windows.
Like the wailing mist around,
She could see sorrow grow.
The aloofness of shrivelled jasmine,
The surrender of coffee-mugs,
The sound of tired flutes,
She gathers them and throws.
Like the wailing mist around
She now lets sorrow grow.