Winter

Winter is here -
barren trees
with nothing
to give
but of their
emptiness.
Silence.
Stillness.
And their
stark presence.

They look to
the distant sun
that seems to have
forgotten
its cloak
of warmth and light.

Huddled close
in starched white sheets,
no respite
from the pain
that stings their marrow;
frozen into nothingness -
sombre sentinels,
tired of being alive.

The wait is long;
loneliness gnaws
her way in
to their spirit,
which knows
that spring
is just round
the corner,
if only they can
hang in there
and rest
in their waiting...