I Am A Flower--Summer Serves Me Well,
Though I Love Winter It Holds Like A Spell,
The Snow Is A Place I Am Forbidden,
Though I Can't Resist Being Frostbitten,
The Frost Withers My Petals--Soft As Silk,
But It Is Okay, It Is Just The Bilk,
The Cold Chills My Stem And Gets To My Brain,
My Skin Turns Brittle And Old--It's Death's Stain,
The Other Plants Have Had Their Kiss From Death,
Though I Know I Am Close To My Last Breath,
I Try To Stand Tall And Reach The Pale Sun,
I Tried To Win A Battle Which Can't Be Won,
I Have Stood Winter's Blizzard--Ice And Snow,
Though I Get Buried The Longer I Go,
Hanging Onto The World I Do Not Need,
The Reason I Love It--There Are No Weeds,
I Know If I Let Go There Will Be Spring,
An Eternity From What Frost Brings

She sat at the dining room table,
reading the headlines of the news.
Wondering and wondering,
where was he tonight.
Peering out of the window,
into the darkness of night.
The moon fading in and out of the overcast,
was he seeing the same moon tonight?
No sounds were heard in the house,
except her breathing.
Everything was just quiet.
Emptiness.
Most of the days she spent waiting,
and waiting for him.
Six months gone by,
nothing yet.
Another six gone by,
as December rolls in.
She hangs the ornaments by herself that year.
The phone rings only has to ring twice,
until she answers.
"Baby, I'm coming home."