The creeping numb of autumn wind,
Chilled embrace of warmth’s rescind.
A future would complicate,
A cold blooded fate.
What should clarity ensue?
In the chill of morning dew.
Navigate the forlorn cloud.
Would you melt the frozen shroud?
A crushing wall of ashen grey,
Promise now in the breaking day,
Pleased to take the broken crown,
In sinking gloom looming down.
So would you step on solid ground?
Breaking twigs in subtle sound.
As amber waves break barren mounds,
The warming rays are lost and found.