Poetry

I'm waiting on the thaw,
It won't come along,
I've been sitting here since fall,
Still, the thaw, it won't come along;

Frigid is the grass on which I sprawl,
And still the thaw won't come along,
Oh how I've waited here since dawn,
And still the grass won't green to thaw;

In my lungs the air comes to draw,
And still the thaw just lingers on,
From dawn to dusk, spring to fall,
The time it takes is oh so long;

The dead air splinters my vocal hall,
And still the thaw just won't dawn,
Perhaps it's right, maybe it's wrong,
It chokes the deer, from buck to fawn;

The geese up high soon take their fall,
And still the thaw won't come to call,
It's like we've licked a wicked wall,
Rotten feasts and the men will draw;

Yet the kids still love their mall,
They don't care much about the thaw,
Wives flock to Dillard's to buy a shawl,
Daughters comment but this is all;

Will I enter, asks itself the thaw,
Do I emerge from this sacred mall,
Or will I winter until winter destroys it all,
What lingers stiffly outside the hall;

The good squirrel saved from spring to fall,
It knew the frost would come to call,
Then came the bad one who had eaten all,
They both would starve before the thaw;

Bears at the stream once feared the thaw,
The were glad when the gal came to call,
They could withstand most they were so tall,
But cried the creeks' corpses when it turned fall;

Yet still I'm waiting on the thaw,
I know it may never come along,
I don't care much, been here since fall,
I'll fade away even if it comes along.