On cloudy days
above I gaze
And wonder whence the Sun
Has deigned to go
as down below
Long, dark shadows run.
When icey breeze,
and bone-chill freeze
Suck warmth and life away
I long again,
To look and then,
See dark subsumed by day.
Truth be told,
If I grow old,
And never more the sun I see,
If I be bowed,
Ne'er more allowed,
Still will I have lived free.