for all the busy passing spectators
winter rolled throughlike an old western cowboy
who leaves a town empty,
taking only some whisky.
and while you can
watch the workers rise
each morning to the sun,
and crawl home to the moon,
there is no light in their step,
or life in the sky.
for a dark time has creeped in,
like a fog
passing through the holes
of an old cabin.
but on the horizon,
a stretched shadow can be seen
haunting over the cold ground.
and just the sight
of this hero
brings color rushing back.
and as he passes through,
the graves of what seemed lost
spring open,
splattering life and
joy onto the now
moving ground.
an aroma of pies
and roast beef spreads through the air,
fighting off the wet damp smell
that had conquered,
like a cheap dictator.
once again, birds decorate
the trees with their homes,
and the sky with their notes.
and the flowers
share a splash of colors
for all the busy passing spectators.
and so this beautiful
painting of reality
has come back together once more.
but never leaving the canvas
was an even more beautiful portrait.
for a love stayed strong through the cold times.
and for a few moments it may have considered
rolling over,
but this was delusion.
simple tricks whispered into the loves ear
by the snow and the moon.
no. these tricks were futile!
this love was meant to live on.
through the cold and the warm.
and that it did.
and that it will.
