Ooms

OOms

I sit alone within my dimly lit room
The environment adding to my feelings of gloom
I am frustrated; I do not want to succumb
To these impending feelings of doom.

My brain has withered like a prune
I sweep my mind without a broom
To rid the cobwebs that consume
My mind, my heart, my open wounds

From the window in my room
I see the dead of winter loom
Upon Mother Earth, her cold hearted groom
To plant his seed within her womb

These feelings if I let resume
Will carry me to my own tomb
I feel so trapped and so marooned
Within the confines of my room

Wake up, wake up I must exhume
This warm despair and icy gloom
Spring will arrive a lush perfume
Flowers surface again to bloom

I cannot die so soon, so soon
My ears must hear Spring's lovely tune
Blushing bride by lake and call of loon
Surrending to the light of a bright full moon

My mood as light as a balloon
With laughter, joy and songs I croon
Time moves forward, so I can presume
I will live to see another June