Winter Wind

In silence I sit I stare through the warped window pane

The grape vines, once rich with purple and green

now darkened by their autumnal sleep

And the wind-swept trees

So long in love with that easeful rest

Can you hear their whispered pleas?

The softest of screams

So, in this piercing numbness;

there is no pain

And by Borrum, my breath is stolen away