January for December
The snow, once white, turns grey, as landscapes die beneath the cold,
The piercing wind destroys each fire of hope, its whistle scolds
That flame, for daring defy the monochromatic grey
Decaying into black as sunlight is drained from the day.
The Sun, she visits less each day, though now we need her more,
Scarce daring show her face without a veil of cloud decor.
The Moon, her nocturne lullaby starts earlier each day,
And bedsheets beckon us, perchance to dream our lives away.
As each day whithers faster into night, it may yet seem
That soon it will be naught but dark, as darkness now does teem.
Yet though this ominous shadow doth lurk, i say this, please, remember:
Though both are cold, don't mistake January for December.
For this is but the start, it isn't yet to be the end.
Time cycles, and your heart soon warm apologies shall mend.
The spring will birth new colours, rains shall wash the grey away,
And actual sunlight at last will beg of you to stay.
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