The stars dangle from silver strings,
Glistening limbs amidst the dreams.
Even the air looks cold outside,
My dreams, my hope, alone reside.
I let myself curl up in bed,
dreaming of warmth, a fire, instead.
And brush cold tears from flowers, dead..
Childhood dreams within my head.
Where in my heart has gone the day,
a rope of twine upon the sleigh?
The laughter, screams of children near,
Deep, in the distance, I hear it still.
I close my eyes and see the days,
when decades past, my children played.
My grandkids, now rush down the hill,
laughing as they roll and spill.
Winter, you are now so cold,
or is it that I now am old?
Winter days, and sparkling night,
The moon, the clouds the dark the light
My picture book in black and white.
Crumpled pages, dark and light.
Life’s so short, so sweet and mild.
I wish, again, to be a child.