~ An Hour With You~


I take a seat in front of my window,
Observing the drops of rain,
Solidifying into flakes of snow,
Creating a veil edging my windowpane.

The earthen milieu redesigned,
Whilst Mother Nature sleeps,
Swathed in a blanket of dreams,
Secreted away in a winter haven.

While gusts of wind are felt passing through me,
To the core within the province of thine own self,
Winter speaks to me with her cold breath,
Sending messages I can’t hear let alone see,

Obscuring an interlude of what may be,
I manage to endure the stinging artic air,
Looking out my window from within,
Not to feel warmth until winter ends.



Click Here To Join Our Mail List

Music: "Color My World (Chicago)"
Bob Mace Midi Page
Sequenced By Bob Mace
Used With Permission