Winter's Death

Seasons come and seasons go, the days grow shorter and cold.
As I walk among the fallen leaves and think on memories of old.

Remembering the past itself, and all of its charms and wiles.
I can cry no more tears at the thought of all your smiles.

It is winter now, so long ago you left me behind.
Yet never have you strayed very far from my mind.

The earth itself is dying, and I find no reason to stay.
All I have are those words you made me say:

“I promise, love, never to forget all that we have here.
I promise never to fear as long as I have you, my dear.”

Well now you’re gone, and I know not how to cope.
Perhaps it’s time I moved on and learned to do more than mope.

Winter is a season of death, and a season of rebirth.
It can be cold and dark or full of joy and mirth.

I cannot cry now, for want of being all alone.
Perhaps it’s time I did some dying of my own.