Seasons come and gone,
grey ice fights the waves.
Sun stretches its arms,
its reach not far away.

Warm air pockets come,
cold air fights to maintain.
A steel grip on my soul,
but it slips away.

Sitting on stony earth,
the most comfortable I’ve been it weeks.

Hard ice gives away,
to soft embracing mud.
Wind whispers warm secrets,
of sweet summer love.

Holding out for hope,
the brighter future fades,
taken by the sound,
of an invasive plane.