Winter's Song

It used to be a precious melody
Charting the winds of summer.
It was a song of promise
Rhyming with no rhythm

But a siren's dance has shown color
And truth has beset unwelcome.
Its melancholic march grows steady
To the emptiness of the funeral.

Then there was not a heart to listen
Or one reasonable mind to imagine.
Only deaf ears which knew but noise
And now not even one at all.

The notes sounded their dying,
Resigned to a dissonant chord.
And from there the horizon
Was left only bittersweet silence.