Until Spring Comes

Until Spring Comes

The world is cold and listless grey,
Subdued in its winter coat arrayed.
Bright colors from seasons past,
Reds, blues, purples, pinks,
All lost, no longer on display.

The thief that bereaves the land--
Where delicate blooms once did unfold
And evenings ended lined with gold--
Will at last stay its hand.

Wind whisks through deserted trees,
Their brittle branches void of leaves.
Wistful dreams of warmer days,
Sleeping green vanquished by grey,
The land waits,
Until spring comes again.

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