few are the leaves and buds late on these trees
that heart grows weak and even time might ail
as weathers slowly change while the clouds sail
above our heads driven by random breeze
towards the east nothing that wants to please
our needy minds as this brief cold must fail
the warmth return before our hopes turn stale
and just in time our anger turn to ease
but in the night some matters are too deep
for ordinary dreams and break my rest
to let me know that there is no mistake
relief shall not be granted by kind sleep
the warmth of bed is not a comfy nest
but there are worse fates than coming awake