Sunset of Winter

Sunset of red
silhouettes a tree
stripped by wind and frost.
a skeleton reaching out
missing skin and flesh
alive inside
looking dead without

Tis what’s left of me
when cold winds change
the living into dead
only my soul
survives inside
a body reaching out
for far away spring

Through winter’s chill
I stand like with the tree
enduring but barely alive
survival not assured
‘cause I don’t really care
if I see tomorrow
or the next

Till those days
when warm winds return
turning frost into dew
I await in pain
alone with misery inside
my only comfort
is with you.