Cold Morning

In your den your sleeping,
A mattress in the corner
With cans of soup in crates
And mightnight oil lamp

The avalanche is coming
From the northern towns.

You've kept some of your poems
Beneath a battered pillow
Words you'll never read to me
Until I'm fast asleep.

The avalanche is nearing
From the northern towns

We'll play checker in the evening
And I'll win every game
I played it with my father
With you it's not the same.

The avalanche is here
No more in northern towns.

The Dogs have gone silent.

by Ursula De La Mer

Comments (3)

And why so is something which nobody could answer.
Sometimes the simplicity of the message is enough to speak volumes. A sumptuously apt work that I agree concurrently.
From Hymen's Triumph Act I The song of the first Chorus (right at the end)