PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

When the cold wind rattles,
The doors in their frames
And the children tremble,
It's then I get to thinking
There's something hidden
Inside, where my weariness hides

I know little of life's pages,
Nor can I know where hell ends
Or even where heaven begins

But I do know the heartache,
That comes in the darkest hour
When a boundless wind shatters
The last vestige of falling leaves
That now lie dormant and hidden,
In the snowy bosom of the earth

While the grass waits patiently,
To burst back into the dawn,
And claim an everlasting victory