Winter Maelstrom

The only poem I’ve ever made. Cheers.

T’was a warm spring breeze after a cold lone winter,
Such it was the answer to a silent prayer,
And it became more intense, a summer’s day breather,
He said to himself, “It could only get better”.
But the sun hides into a chilly autumn’s’ day,
He asked, can there be no winter? And she said nay,
And Lady Winter came with her Jack Frost in tow,
From the cold frigid nights, she sent harsh gales and snow,
A message she whispered, she says, “Just let it go”,
With deafened ears, stubborn, he continued to plough,
In this blizzard of a storm, candle light flicker,
He cup his hands ’round its flame from getting dimmer,
As dear Lady Winter blows on, “Give up.” she says,
And he said “Nay! I shall fight for the warmer days!”
To ride the storm, or to be consumed by Her frost,
Which compass is showing north, and which cause is lost?
Even through the suffering he prayed for the best,
He hoped that summer shall return, yet he’s in jest,
Try as he might, what if his labours lay wasted?
To that thought he succumbs, conceded on his bed,
Too tired and exhausted, his will has been bled,
Yet he knows he wouldn’t stop even if he’s trapped,
In a trap of his own,
To a bottom unknown,
Drowning in candle wax,
His candles’ flame at max,
Give up and back away, he shall always say no,
Even if it leaves him of broken hollow.
The candles’ flame lights an inferno of struggle,
If killed by winter, the bearer is in trouble,
For all he would be left, piles of broken rubble.

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