Ravens circle in the sky above

Dark images cast upon the snow

I sit on a cold bench in the garden

Waiting

Snow falls like white dust

He said he would be here

In this garden of thorns and rose hips

This garden of skeleton sticks

And blood red berries

Tassels on my wool cap from Finland

Sway in the icy wind

A grey heavy sky above

Ravens dive towards the sea

Ominous signs

Waiting in this decaying garden

A very old man sits next to me

His white beard covered with snow

He isn't coming, the old man says

My body dead to words

Don't you know? the old one whispers

Don't you know?