Gathering the Days

I walk the frozen sidewalks
Taciturn
Foraging for days awaiting their turn
To be set ablaze
To slowly burn.

We sit before the hearth
Eyes all glazed
Watching the days smolder away
We breathe the bitter smoke
Of those bitter days.

He said to me then,
You've nothing to lose
'Pure' only exists in cartons of juice
But it was the summer,
It left only a bruise.

I think of the felons
Who aren't anymore
Who are now soybean farmers or learners of lore
Is it sunny
Where they set up store?

Et vous, Papa?
Le temps est-il chaud où vous êtes?
Fait-il du soleil où vous êtes?

--
the french is from an online translator, cos i wasn't sure...