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...

Waiting for Love

a gentle stirring
takes root -
deep in my gut,
sucked into a vortex,
my insides churn
and sink
into nowhere;
a little heart
is tossed up
into a bubbling
cauldron of sorts,
a magic spell
rises out to numb
my wobbly knees,
tipsy fingers and toes,
the waters break,
waves of pain and joy
rise and fall,
waiting for love
to be birthed.

The Arrival

the door is open -
I sit by it and wait...
for nothing,
and everything;
for the coming
and going;
there is darkness
and there's light, sometimes;
there is despair
and there's hope, sometimes;
strangers, friends,
love and hate;
and in the silent space
between,
I wait...