In this upcoming winter
my time is spent indoors

framed by only windows

overlooking Lake Ann.

Fragments of silver threads

held in some mystic realm,

loneliness seeps in . . .

I try to remember the colors of autumn

laid bare by cold

colors traded for lasting shadows upon this land

and woodland hills framed in everlasting grey.

Caught in a hushed morning light

shadows flickering in fireplace flames

and I . . .

teetering just beneath reason and feelings,

knowing what might have been.