Waiting for Winter to pass...

The colored beams of early morn cast an illusion of spring,
as the villagers quietly wake to there warm fires
and cups of tea. Nestled comfortable in their homes
they patiently wait for winter to pass,
while they lazily watch the embers of the fireplace
rustle, crackle, and dance to the rhythm of the flame.

Outside an icy chill clings to frost bitten trees,
like paint on the canvass of a masterpiece.
As the riverbed by the old windmill sleeps in
glazed ice, the fish down below swim free
and unnoticed.

The kiss of winter still fresh upon the town,
leaving the old wind chimes over numerous doorsteps
swaying without a sound.
Children lay their heads against the glass,
for the snow is too cruel for play.
Their youth wanting, wishing, and praying,
for just one more bright sunny day.