Everything is dead.
Feel the dew on the yellow long grass
Brown patches of plants
The long barren branches.
Winter was here
It is plain to see
The animals are gone
The forest; no longer green
All hope is gone
Tears are shed
For the squirrels and the birds
And plants that are dead
Where are the flowers
and the little blue jay;
Who sat by my window
Where I heard him play
I look down at my feet
As I walk along the muddy road
Which was once covered in wildflowers,
But all died in the snow.
I remember the field where I played in the sun,
And feel my heart shrivel and sigh,
As I look across the now lifeless meadow,
My hope flickers and dies.
I trudge back through the mucky, windy road,
My soul disheartened and black.
I kicked at some stones and whistled a tune,
And I could’ve sworn a song bird sang back