Dying in the Snow

Dying in the Snow

Winter is heavy on the bough

and frost lies chilled

upon the crackling ground

and there you lay

frozen stiff in the park

with no more songs

to sing in your heart

and the hope in your soul

all withered away.

You closed your eyes

before you died

a stranger in the snow

and I wondered whether

Death kissed you on the mouth

or on the brow

so with eyes shut

you slipped into the velvet mystery

with the faint smile

upon your lips.

On one knee beside you

I looked at the lines

of woe etched upon your face

and the grey whiskers

frozen stiff

and I thought

was it sour wine

on your last breath

or the vinegar from the spear

of those who didn't care

the taste in your mouth

as you lay dying

in your threadbare coat.

Do you have parents

still to wail upon the wind

and where are the brothers and sisters

I do not see here in the snow

nor the children you might have had

to grieve as you lie still and stiff

in the frigid air.

If I could hum or sing

your song for you

it would moan

as the wind ruffling my hair

but would not be chilled

as the air freezing

the tear rolling down my cheek

for you who died in a park

all alone but with a strange

dignity still.

You have but me

a stranger kneeling beside you

to care enough to touch

you gently on the cheek

a stranger lying

dead in the snow.