I don't think winter Was ever meant to be Who can live when the cold Freezes your soul? I want the warmth of the sun To kiss my skin I want the delicate flutter of A butterflys wing against my cheek But nature plays this cruel trick On me every September It cajoles me with red and gold leaves The shades of amber and burnt orange Delight my eyes All the while the leaves are dying And I will never behold them again Bare branches will reach up like skeletal arms Against dull gray clouds Snow will descend and a hush will fall Like death, but not quite And I must wait so long for the first bloom Of color to push up through the spring snow Promising the warmth of summer to follow I don't think winter Was ever meant to be